Overcoming Darkness
by phantasmagoria91
Summary: The war continues on as Lucius and Bellatrix wreak havoc in the Wizarding world. Hiding out in Grimmauld, Hermione's isolated world gets turned upside down when an old Slytherin nuisance finds his way into her life, instilling deep jealousy in Ron.
1. Hopelessly Optimistic

_I. Hopelessly Optimistic_

Hermione sat hunched over on the sofa in the sitting room at number twelve Grimmauld place, nervously chewing on her knuckles. Tonks crossed the room to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. Hermione looked up at her, only managing a half-smile. Teddy suddenly ran through the room with an excited squeal, oblivious to the precarious situation around him. Remus chased after Teddy, scooping him up with a smile.

Suddenly noticing Hermione's distress, Remus replaced Teddy back to the floor and said, "Ah, don't fret, Hermione. They'll all be fine."

"But how do you _know_?" she wailed. Ron, George, and Harry were on a particularly dangerous errand. It was almost two years since Voldemort had been destroyed, but now the rise of the Death Eaters was worse than ever. They were all intending to avenge their master. Unfortunately though, without an established leader, there was chaos in the streets as the Death Eaters wreaked havoc on any Muggles or Muggle-born wizards they could find. One could almost pity the struggle the Ministry was going through to keep it all under control. Almost. Number twelve Grimmauld place was one of the few safe places left, and because of this, Harry and Ron insisted that Hermione remain at the house at all times. This also meant that she was forced to sit in agony awaiting their safe return whenever they went on an "errand" without her, not having any way to tell whether or not things were going in their favor.

Mr. Weasley had gotten a lucky clue last week at the Ministry as to where the latest Malfoy hideout might be, and Harry had immediately jumped at the chance. Being that the Malfoys were considered the most powerful runner-ups to Voldemort, they had to constantly relocate in order to accommodate the remaining Death Eaters, as the Order was constantly on the lookout for them. They couldn't exactly keep their headquarters in the not-so-conspicuous Malfoy Manor. Without the protection of Voldemort, the Malfoys were becoming fast aware of their vulnerability and the lack of protection their mansion provided them. They were like cockroaches, scattering at the light and any chance of being revealed.

Remus was just about to open his mouth to answer her, no doubt with something reassuring yet misguided in her opinion, when a loud _crack_ signaled someone Apparating into the room. Hermione leaped off the couch and rushed over to Harry, throwing her arms around him.

"Herm—" Harry choked out as the rest of his air was squeezed out of him.

The three of them weren't in the best condition, and Molly Weasley, having just emerged from the kitchen, immediately started fussing over them, handing them changes of clothes and muttering Healing spells under her breath. George seemed to have taken the most damage.

"What happened?" Remus asked, settling on the couch with Teddy in his lap.

Exhausted, Ron collapsed on the sofa next to Remus, grabbing a hold of Hermione's hand as he did so. It was a rare show of affection that Hermione wasn't sure what to think of. True, Ron had said more than once that he wanted to marry her, but she just didn't feel the passion and often felt that Ron was asking her purely out of some sort of moral obligation he felt towards her.

"It was a rubbish tip-off," Ron grumbled, releasing Hermione's hand just as quickly as he had taken it. "We were attacked as soon as we arrived. Managed to get a few stunning spells in alright before we Apparated."

Harry said nothing, only stomped up the stairs. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley exchanged glances, and Hermione began up the stairs after him.

"Harry?" she called, knocking softly on his door. When he didn't answer, she let herself in. He was sitting on the edge of his temporary bed, staring at the floor in a rather pathetic manner. She sat down next to him and placed a comforting hand on his back. "Don't tell me that you think this is somehow your fault."

"Well, if I hadn't dragged them off, George wouldn't have been hurt," he replied indignantly.

She rolled her eyes. "You were all hurt, not just George. Nothing that can't be mended. You did the right thing. No one else is going to take any action against the Death Eaters. You and I both know the Ministry is good for nothing."

Harry tried to hide his grin at the crack towards the Ministry.

"Ever since the ambush on the Manor, they all _know_ to expect us, which makes catching them off guard impossible. I'm at my wit's end," he admitted.

"You'll catch a break. I know you will," she said, sounding surprisingly like Remus whenever he tried to assure Hermione of something. And, like Hermione, Harry was just as unconvinced as she always was. She was beginning to tire of the cheery, unrealistic, and utterly hopeless optimism.

He headed towards the bathroom to shower and change, and she went back downstairs to the kitchen, where everyone had relocated. George was in the middle of recreating his glorious moment.

"—'_Stupefy!'_ and she just went down, the old hag!" he declared, emphasizing this with a dramatic flourish of his arms. "I'm sure she'll think twice about messing with George Weasley!"

"Mhmm," Mrs. Weasley was saying distractedly, still circling George's chair, inspecting all limbs for any other cuts she had missed. "Get your feet off the table, now."

Mrs. Weasley was obviously more protective of George now that Fred had been tragically killed in the battle at Hogwarts. It had taken George so long to be able to crack jokes and smile again, what with his other half unable to share it with him. It was hard for them all to smile, the losses at Hogwarts were all so recent.

Teddy was thoroughly enjoying the story George was telling with all his arm-sweeping movements, giggling at all the scary voices George was using to portray the Death Eaters. Hermione envied his innocence. What would it be like, she wondered, to be unaffected by the losses and death all around them? Poor Teddy only had a few more years of happiness before he started to thoroughly understand the nature of the situation. Hermione prayed that the war would be over by then.

"I think it's someone's nap time," Tonks said suddenly, much to Teddy's dismay.

"No!" he cried out, one of his favorite words in his scarce vocabulary. She scooped him up without any hesitation and carried him upstairs, blowing raspberry kisses on his cheek on the way up.

No longer having an interested audience for his story, George lifted himself up from his chair and also headed upstairs to get cleaned up. There was another _crack_ as Ginny appeared in the kitchen, long red hair falling in a wave down her back.

"Have they arrived, then?" she asked, the question directed at no specific person.

It was Remus that nodded first. "They're upstairs getting cleaned up."

"Hermione? Might I have a word with you later?" Ginny asked warmly.

"Of course," she answered.

Obviously not going to let Harry's shower get in her way of seeing him, Ginny bounded up the stairs after stuffing a biscuit from the table into her mouth.

While tidying up the kitchen more, Mrs. Weasley asked point-blank, "Have you given any more thought to Ron's proposal?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. That was supposed to be private! And not only did Molly know apparently, she was talking about it in front of Remus as well!

As if reading her mind, Remus said, "You needn't worry. It's hard to keep a secret in this household. We all know."

He was meant to be reassuring, but this only embarrassed Hermione further. "Who's 'we'?" she managed, fearing the worst.

"Well, all of us. Tonks, Arthur, Ginny, George—"

"Ginny knows?" So that's what Ginny wanted to discuss later. She was going to grill her for all the details in a very Ginny-like fashion. "I'm never going to hear the end of it."

Apparently deciding that she wasn't going to get anywhere on this topic, she turned to Remus and changed the subject, talking instead about Teddy's future schooling.

Hermione avoided Ginny for the rest of the day, but was unable to procrastinate any longer when she cornered Hermione in the study. Hermione had, of course, been reading, and had no excuse to suddenly up and leave at that point. Ginny entered the room with two cups of tea, and Hermione knew she was done for. Accepting this, she lazily flicked her wand to relight the dying fire and set her book on the end table next to her armchair.

"So," Ginny said, sipping her tea and settling into the chair next to Hermione's, "Ron says you've been…hesitant about marrying him."

Looking at Hermione's sour face, she laughed a little. "Relax, I'm not here to scold you!" she promised. "I just wanted to know what you were thinking. I'm not going to run back to Ron and tell him what you said. I miss talking to you."

Hermione immediately felt guilty for purposely avoiding her. She had been reluctant to engage in much conversation with any of the Weasleys lately. Their red hair and freckles immediately reminded her of Ron, a topic she very much wished to avoid.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I just never expected him to ask me." When Ginny gave her a confused look, she explained. "I…love Ron, and we've been together for a long time, but I never actually thought about marriage. My mind was elsewhere what with the war going on. It caught me completely off-guard when he was still able to think about marriage at a time like this."

"I understand," Ginny said. "But the worst part of the war is over. Now it's just a matter of pinning the Malfoys down and turning the rest of the Death Eaters over to the Ministry. It's not like we have to worry about You-Know-Who anymore."

Hermione let out a breath. "You're right. I guess I've just been frazzled."

"He loves you," Ginny urged. "Even though he isn't the best at expressing it lately. Cut him some slack."

"I'll think about what you said."

Later that night, the house was mostly empty. Molly had returned to the Burrow to get supper ready for Arthur, who would be returning home from work. Wherever Molly went, the rest of the Weasley clan also went as well, since that was the best way to get a full meal. Remus and Harry had followed Ron to the Burrow to strategize their next move, but Tonks had stayed behind to look after Teddy.

The house being mostly empty, Hermione settled at the kitchen table with a meager supper, reading _The Daily Prophet_.

SEARCH CONTINUES FOR REMAINING DEATH EATERS

The ministry is now increasing their reward bonus by 50 galleons for any person with information pertaining to the whereabouts of the nine known remaining Death Eaters. Sources have indicated that these offenders are more than likely being sheltered by the Malfoy family. Lucius Malfoy, for his unwillingness to cooperate with the Ministry, is now being considered a fugitive on the run. The reward extends out to the location of or information concerning Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione set down the paper, not wishing to finish the article. _Odd_, she thought, _Draco Malfoy's name isn't among the list. _She hadn't seen him since the battle at Hogwarts. Thinking back on the event, she realized how lucky they were to have suffered so few casualties. They were definitely the winning side, the death of Voldemort obviously being the determining factor. Draining her cup of tea, she left the paper on the table and retired to her room after saying goodnight to Tonks and Teddy.


	2. Paranoia At Its Finest

_II. Paranoia At Its Finest _

Hermione was awakened by a shuffling noise in her room. She sat upright to see Ron closing the door behind him, clearly not bothering to be quiet.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Hermione asked, trying desperately to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the fact that she had not been invited.

Ron shrugged. "Mostly it was spent trying to convince Harry that he's not a complete failure and that we'll catch that whole lot yet."

Hermione felt that he was dulling it down to keep her from feeling too envious that she had missed a cozy, yet chaotic dinner at the Burrow with everyone.

"I think I'll come along next time," she said nonchalantly.

Ron sighed and sat down on the bed. "You know it's risky for you to be traveling. If any of those Malfoys got hold of you…"

Impatiently blowing a piece of unruly hair out of her face, she countered, "That's always your excuse. You can't expect me to the stay cooped up in here forever can you?"

"Of course not! We're so close to finding the Malfoys and Death Eaters. Harry and I just feel that you'd be safer—"

"Maybe it's not about what you and Harry think. Maybe it's about what I want."

"Just trust me on this," Ron said. "Can I stay here tonight?"

Irritated at his dismissal and change of topic, she had half a mind to tell him to go down the hall to his own room for the night. But they both knew she would say yes, just like she always did.

The clock read 5:17 am, not that the early hour prevented Hermione from having a pounding headache. Wrapping a sheet around her, she quietly padded toward the bathroom, trying not to wake Ron. Fishing a draught out of the medicine cabinet for her headache, she tried to ignore the bed-headed reflection looking back at her through blurry eyes. She glanced back into the bedroom and saw that Ron was still snoring contentedly on her pillow, his bare chest peeking above her sheets. She would have preferred he return back to his room after his "visit," but she didn't have the heart to tell him.

She dressed quickly in drawstring pants and a simple T-shirt before leaving the room. Figuring that she wasn't going to get any more sleep that morning, she made herself a cup of tea and regretted the fact that it was too early for anyone to have acquired today's copy of _The Daily Prophet_, one of her only connections to the outside world.

Remus entered the kitchen with a sleepy look on his face and Teddy on one hip.

"Is Teddy being difficult?" Hermione asked.

"I guess you could say that. He always has trouble sleeping in strange beds. I think we're going to take him home this afternoon."

Hermione was the only one with a permanent residence at Grimmauld place. Grimmauld was more like a home base. Granted, the Weasley kids were always going back and forth between here and the Burrow, and Remus and Tonks spent enough time visiting, but Hermione was the only one who didn't have another place to go. Ron had insisted.

Hermione was bored out of her mind, but often convinced herself that hiding was the right thing to do. She spent most of the morning in the study like she always did, curled up in the armchair with a book. A few hours later she heard Ron's voice drifting in from the kitchen. "She didn't even make any breakfast?"

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her book. Not only was she supposed to accommodate him at night, she was also expected to wait on him hand and foot.

Ginny's voice followed, louder than his. "Oh, stuff it, Ronald! Make your own breakfast. You can't be a ickle mommy's boy forever."

Finishing up the chapter she was on, Hermione set her book on the table and made her way to kitchen and sat next to Ginny, who was talking animatedly about a funny Muggle man she had run into on the street the other day.

Out of nowhere, Harry bounded into the kitchen clutching _The Daily Prophet_. "They've been sighted! Right outside of Hogsmeade, actually."

Ron jumped up from the table and started scanning the paper, a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. Eager for news of the outside world, Hermione read the article over his shoulder.

"It was a Muggle, actually," Harry explained to Ginny, who was not reading the paper. "Some woman saw a group of masked, robed people and contacted the Muggle police, thinking it was some trouble-making cult or something."

"Why would the Death Eaters just ignore this Muggle woman?" Ginny said, mirroring Hermione's thoughts exactly.

Harry just shrugged.

"Well, if their main objective is to cause harm to Muggles, then doesn't that seem a perfect opportunity? There were no other witnesses," Hermione contributed.

"Could be a trap…" Ron said, seemingly to himself.

Ginny snorted. "You're thinking way too much into this. Their hideout is probably nearby and it would give away their position to go offing Muggles. Just go out there and investigate." With that she cleared the table with a wave of her wand and left the room.

"I'm going to Floo over to Lupin's," Harry said immediately. "See what he thinks about this."

"I'll talk to George," Ron said with an air of authority, Apparating smoothly. Hermione wished she could just Apparate away whenever she could. Feeling a sudden wave of bitterness, she retreated to the study once more.

Later that night, Hermione stealthily moved through the kitchen, helping Molly refill teacups and plates of pastries. Remus, Tonks, Arthur, George, Ginny, Bill, and Harry were all situated around the cramped kitchen table, discussing plans of attack.

"This has to be their newest hideout," Bill said excitedly. "I've done some checking up on it."

"We can't just go in with our wands waving and expect the gits to just surrender now, can we?" Ron exclaimed.

"I wasn't suggesting that, by all means."

"That's gotten us nowhere," Tonks piped up.

"What we need is to pinpoint the most likely position they've settled, and surround it best we can," Remus was saying.

It was utter chaos, and Hermione couldn't help but jump in with her research. "I've got a map of the area surrounding Hogsmeade." She unceremoniously dumped large bits of parchment on the table. "See, there's a field and an abandoned house not too far. The only reason we haven't thought of it before is because of its proximity to Hogwarts."

They looked carefully over at her circles and arrows, indicating their best plan of action.

"I could go and cast some Concealing spells before—"

"No, Hermione, you should stay here," Ron immediately cut in.

Hermione's courage deflated like a balloon. "But—but what am I supposed to do?" she demanded.

"You've already done enough. You've gotten this research for us."

"Anyone could have bloody well gotten _research_. I want to fight!" she exclaimed.

A wail from upstairs suddenly put the argument to a halt. It was Teddy. "I'll go get him," Hermione grumbled, storming from the room.

Heading up the stairs to the spare room where Teddy was taking a nap, she tried to take her mind off the fact that her best friend/boyfriend/fiancé whatever you want to call him was being such a git. She wasn't a helpless maiden from medieval times. She could take care of herself.

Teddy gurgled and exclaimed something in baby talk when Hermione entered the room. She picked him up and Conjured a cookie from downstairs for him to munch on. After drying his face off, she set him back down and gave him some toys to play with. Teddy then proceeded to pick up each individual toy and present it with a proud flourish to Hermione.

"Yes, they're all lovely toys," Hermione told him and he shoved a small blue bear into her arms.

"Hermione?" she heard Tonks call up to her. Placing Teddy on her hip, she descended the stairs just in time to see Tonks trip over the ever-present umbrella stand. Teddy laughed to see his mother stumble and exclaim in surprise. Tonks only grinned when she righted herself and held her arms out for Teddy.

Seeing Hermione's face, she said quietly, "We're heading out in about an hour."

"Who's going?"

"Everyone except Molly. Would you…d'you mind watching Teddy while we're gone?"

Hermione smiled despite her bitter mood. "Of course." She wouldn't turn down a friend no matter how bad a mood she was in.

Tonks squeezed her hand, her signature move. "I'm so lucky to have such a good friend."

Hermione was trying to avoid kicking into paranoid mode, but it had been so long since they left. Even Molly's whistling in the kitchen was losing its spunk. She had already put Teddy to bed after feeding him and reading him a story. Surprisingly too distracted to read for once, she settled on pacing in front of the fire. Molly noticed this and tried to unsuccessfully distract her with a plate of food. That was always her first instinct: offer someone food or tea.

It wasn't going to calm Hermione down this time. Her mind suddenly began racing with "what-ifs." What if it was Harry? The Boy Who Lived had defeated Voldemort…he couldn't be taken down by a measly Death Eater. What if it was Ron? She couldn't bear it if Ron was hurt. What if it was Ginny? Ginny, so full of life and laughter. She was one of Hermione's closest friends. Ginny couldn't be hurt. She continued this self-destructive mindset until she began to drift asleep on the sofa, watching the flames in fireplace.

When she finally awoke, the party had already arrived from their ambush. Their were loud voices and shuffling, ensuring that Hermione wasn't going to sleep through this arrival. Feeling groggy and un-rested, she almost felt a twinge of anger that no one had thought to wake her up earlier. Letting the room come into focus more, she saw blood. Molly, and now Fleur, were going around the room tending to everyone quickly. Hermione heard Molly mutter 'St. Mungo's' once or twice.

"What happened?" Hermione immediately asked, stunned at the sight.

"Ambushed them…" Ron managed to get out. He was nursing his arm and Fleur was holding a bandage to his forehead, frantically flipping through a book looking for a proper Healing charm.

"Oi, move over!" Hermione said impatiently and aimed her wand and Ron's forehead. After properly Healing him, she pressed him for more information. Quickly tallying off the people in the room, she realized some were missing. "W-where is everyone?" she gulped.

Remus had unshed tears building in his eyes. It finally dawned on Hermione what had happened. She turned to Ron. "Tonks?"

The look he gave her said it all. She collapsed to the sofa, her head spinning.

"Where's Ginny?" she shrieked.

"She's at St. Mungo's," Molly said quickly, sniffling. "B-but not Arthur—" she broke off with heart wrenching sobs.


	3. Happier Alternatives

_III. Happier Alternatives_

Hours later, Hermione, Molly, Ron, Harry, Remus, Teddy, and George were sitting in St. Mungo's, awaiting news of Bill and Ginny. True, they had lost Arthur and Tonks in the fight, but they still had hope for the two Weasleys. They had lost this battle; only one Death Eater had been taken down.

Hermione's heart went out to Remus and Teddy. She had never seen Remus look so miserable, and of course Teddy didn't grasp the concept of death yet. And poor, poor Mrs. Weasley had already lost two of her children in the Battle at Hogwarts, and now she had lost her husband. When would it all end?

A squat looking Healer made her way noisily down the hall, her echoing shoes being the only noise in the empty corridor.

"Ginevra and Bill Weasley are going to make a full recovery, but they need to be kept overnight for the Skele-Gro to do its job," the nurse informed them all primly.

"I don't think I could have taken any more bad news," Molly breathed, tears shining in her eyes. "Our little group is growing smaller and smaller."

"We'll pull through it all right," Hermione reassured her. "We always do."

The next month passed in a blur. Hermione was numb to nearly everything that happened. They had reported their findings to the Ministry of course, and Hermione figured the only reason they didn't get in any trouble was because they had managed to capture a Death Eater, and the Ministry probably sympathized with Mrs. Weasley for losing yet another family member.

Arthur and Tonks' funeral was held on the same day, and Ron didn't dare tell Hermione to remain at the house. He did have an annoying habit of looking over at her every three seconds during the service, as if she was going to up and disappear or get kidnapped by a Death Eater.

He relaxed visibly when they Apparated back to 12 Grimmauld Place, but Hermione didn't feel like speaking to him much.

It was exactly two months after the incident that Hermione made a choice. Ron, Harry, George, and Bill were off on another raid, and this time the tip had come from a close friend. Ron had foolishly left his map out on the dining room table, so Hermione knew exactly where they were going.

She studied the map intently, telling herself the whole time that if she was strong enough to face Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, then she could square off against eight measly Death Eaters…and Lucius, Narcissa, Draco Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione had told them that they were horribly outnumbered 'til she was blue in the face. She had begged them to go the Ministry with their suspicions so they could at least get some backup. No, Harry had insisted, the Malfoys had someone on the inside at the Ministry, so if they knew we were onto them, they could quickly pick up and leave again.

The attacks grew worse and worse in the papers, and the randomization of the attacks made their next moves impossible to predict. Harry declared that they needed to put a stop to it. Apparently they were the ones who were going to do it…and now Hermione was going to help.

Taking in a deep breath, she pictured the place in her mind (a clearing in the Southern Forest next to the mountains), and Apparated with a loud _crack_. When she arrived in the darkness, a curse whizzed past her head, missing her by mere inches. The shock of the unexpected curse coming her way caused her to fall roughly to the forest floor. Wand at the ready, she screamed a Disarming spell at the offending wizard (witch?) in the darkness. The trees blocked out any hope of moonlight, and the duel was clearly going from bad to worse.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice rang out in a tone of disbelief and fury. Bad move. Now their positions were given away.

Hermione heard a raspy voice in the distance. "The Mudblood!"

"_Crucio!_" The red beam of light missed Hermione by less than the first spell. All around her was chaos, and all at once, all of the curses seemed to be aimed at her. She saw someone to her left hurl a Stunning spell in the Death Eaters' direction, but there was hardly any true way to tell whether or not it made contact.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her upper arm firmly, and for a split second she thought it was Bellatrix Lestrange, back to capture and torture her once more.

There was another loud _crack_ and she found herself back in the dining room at 12 Grimmauld Place. Bill released her arm and looked like he was contemplating Apparating back to the fight.

"What were you thinking?" he asked. "Ron doesn't need to be distracted any more than he already was."

"Oh, so now I'm a distraction? I was going to help if anyone will let me!" she said indignantly.

Another _crack_ and Ron appeared, followed closely by Harry and George.

"Well, we've definitely lost that battle," Harry declared in a defeated tone.

"I want to help," Hermione directed at Ron before he had a chance to open his mouth.

"We don't need your help," he replied in a harsh tone.

"Oh, yes. Things were going so _well_ before I got there. And way to go, telling the Death Eaters that a Muggle-born witch was twenty feet in front of their nose!"

"That," he said vehemently, "was an accident, and it wouldn't have happened if you had stayed put like you were told."

By this point, George, Harry, and Bill were trying to imperceptibly sneak out of the dining room, not wanting to get involved.

"I'm not a child, and I can take care of myself," Hermione remarked dryly.

"I'll bet that's not what you were thinking when you were screaming in agony while Lestrange tortured you in the Malfoy house!"

Hermione physically flinched, and suddenly hated Ron for using that painful memory against her. It always made her feel weak and vulnerable whenever he chose to flaunt her incapability to protect herself in front of others.

"You're a loathsome git and I am no longer speaking to you!" She actually stamped her foot in a childish rage. "Sleep in your own bed tonight!"

As Hermione stomped around upstairs in her room, she almost had the urge to destroy something. Whether it was breaking the decorative vase in the corner or tearing down the thick cerulean drapes, anything sounded suitable. It was only her self-restraint and the knowledge that throwing a temper tantrum wasn't going to help anything that stopped her. The thought of Ron feeling alone and rejected in his room calmed her down eventually, and she drew herself a bath to relax.

Admiring the golden fixtures of the bath faucets, she settled down into the hot water, letting the humiliation wash off of her. Not that she would ever admit it to anyone else, but Hermione knew that this was not the life she had imagined to herself. It was inappropriate to complain in times like these, but she couldn't help but think that there were happier alternatives than to the one Ron had laid out for her.

Later on that week, Hermione was in the sitting room straightening trinket decorations, polishing surfaces, and removing the seemingly ever-present layer of dust that tended to accumulate in the room. Magic was making the process much faster. She heard footsteps, and looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway.

"Hello," she said rather distantly. She hadn't talked to him much, but now looking at the expression on his face, she felt a slight twinge of guilt. Just slight.

"Gin—I thought that it might be a good idea for us to…have dinner together," he said, catching himself in the near slip, not that Hermione missed it.

"Dinner, hm?" Hermione said, still not betraying any emotions until she knew what exactly he was up to.

"Yeah," he said. "I could cook food and everyone could leave—"

"I can't even go out to eat?" she asked meekly, cutting off his sentence.

"I thought we would have a nice time here. There's something I want to ask you," he admitted rather sheepishly.

"I don't know if that's a good idea…" she chose her words carefully, fearing she already knew what this question was.

"But it's really important," Ron tried. Would he never let up with his proposal?

"Things have been tense around here, and I'm not sure it's appropriate—"

This time it was Ron's turn to cut her off. "It's not appropriate for two people who love each other to get married?" he exclaimed angrily.

"How can you possibly be thinking of marriage when you can't even think about planning your own proper date? I know it was Ginny's idea. There are more important things going on right now than our marriage. People are dying!" Hermione ranted, a few sparks shooting out of the tip of her wand that she was dangling limply at her side.

"That's why I haven't had any time to go out on dates with you! I've been focusing on the Death Eaters," he tried again, somewhat exasperated.

"Exactly! What makes you think marriage is going to fix that? We'll get married, and then you'll still be off doing the raids that I should be participating in as well!" she countered.

"Why don't you want to marry me, Hermione? We've been together for years!"

"It doesn't matter how long we've been together, Ron!" Hermione felt like she was arguing with a small child. He just didn't understand. She searched her mind for a better explanation. "If the chemistry's just not there, it won't matter if you spend a lifetime with each other."

"So that's it then," he said blandly, finally lowering his voice. "There's no 'chemistry'. Merlin, you're such a girl!"

"If I'm just 'a girl,' then why did you want to marry me so badly?" Hermione cried, frustrated. She took a few deep breaths and tried to answer him rationally. "I think we should take a break in our relationship."

Ron paled and began gaping like a fish. "W-what? A break? D'you have any idea what you're saying?"

"We need some time away from each other. I don't appreciate being pressured into marriage, and you need more time to focus on your goals with Harry."

"I can do both!" he whined. She rolled her eyes at his immature behavior and turned to leave the room.

"But Hermione—" he called, his voice breaking slightly.

"Ronald, just listen to me for _once_. Things are better this way."


	4. An Unexpected Visitor

_IV. An Unexpected Visitor_

Ron spent the better part of the week pouting around the house, and whenever Hermione entered a room that he was in, he made a big, dramatic show of crossing his arms and staring at the floor. If he didn't noisily leave the room, that is. Hermione was doing her best to ignore this display, but Ron was a force to be reckoned with.

It didn't help that Mrs. Weasley had completely sided with Ron, and it almost impossible to miss her passive-aggressive jabs at Hermione. If she was making supper that night, she would leave out a place setting at Hermione's usual chair, her message clear: Hermione was not welcome to eat her food. In a motherly fashion, Molly would tidy up everyone's bedrooms and gather laundry while everyone was out. Hermione's was untouched. Hermione could very easily cook and clean for herself, but the blatant neglect still stung.

Ginny disapproved, but still understood Hermione's reasons. Remus was spending most of his time at home and frankly had more pressing matters than Hermione and Ron's relationship drama. Poor Harry was just indifferent to their struggles, and got an uncomfortable look on his face and excused himself from the room whenever any conflict started to arise.

Ron had attempted to talk Hermione into letting him stay the night in her room, but she was mostly offended by his request for casual sex. Between Ron's harping and Mrs. Weasley's nasty disposition, Hermione's spirits were even worse than before.

The group was sitting in the dining room enjoying a turkey dinner that Mrs. Weasley had cooked for George's birthday. Ginny had talked some sense into Molly, so Hermione was actually presented with a plate and an open spot on the table. The rest of them wouldn't have allowed Hermione to be excluded from the celebration anyway. Molly had gone to extreme lengths to decorate Grimmauld place properly for the event. Ginny, George, and Hermione had helped, as well. They were all overcompensating slightly due to the depressing atmosphere around the house ever since Arthur and Tonks' death.

Ron suddenly stood up and raised his wine glass. "I propose a toast to Hermione," he said, surprising everyone in the room.

"For what?" Hermione blurted out without thinking. This was George's day, not hers.

"For all of her fantastic research and planning for all of our raids. You've been a good friend. I'd like to ask you something very impor—,"

Before Hermione had a chance to run from the room in terror at another impending marriage proposal, there was a rapid pounding on the door.

"I'll get it!" Hermione yelled, racing for the front room.

"Wait, Hermione," Ron called after her, close on her heels. "We don't know who it is."

The banging got louder and faster by the time Hermione had reached the door. She pulled it open to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy.

"M-Malfoy?" she asked in disbelief.

He raised an eyebrow. "Congratulations, Granger, you remember my name. Now open the bloody door!"

Barreling into the front hall, he slammed the door shut and barred it. Hermione was still standing there, paralyzed. His blonde hair had grown out a little more, and was no longer slicked back. He had gotten taller and his shoulders had broadened. She almost went as far to think he looked _good_. Well, besides the tattered robes and cuts on his face.

Ron's wand was out and aimed at Malfoy's chest in an instant. "Give me _one_ reason why I shouldn't hex you right this minute," he growled.

Up went the eyebrow again. "You're a tough guy now, huh?" Ron shoved his wand further into his chest. "There's two Death Eaters out there right now laying low, waiting to kill me."

Ron contemplated this. "Alright, then. Out you go."

"Ron!" Hermione intervened, but no one paid her any attention.

"They haven't seen me come in here. If you send me out, they're sure to see me, thus giving away your little headquarters of 'secret' operations," Malfoy countered smoothly.

By now, the dinner party had moved out to the front hall to see what all the commotion was. Molly let out a fantastic shriek when she noticed Malfoy, and everyone had their wands out faster than you could say _Expelliarmus. _

Malfoy put his hands up in an "I surrender" kind of way with a bored expression on his face.

"How do I know you're not lying? What if it's a trap and they're coming in this instant?"

"How did you find us? Are there others?"

"Let's just kill him."

"Hand him over to the Ministry."

"Wait!" Hermione interrupted once more. "We can't just _kill_ him. We should listen to what he has to say."

Ron had a look of astonishment on his face. "But Hermione, he's a _Malfoy_. It's _Draco_ bloody Malfoy!"

"Hermione's right," Remus cut in. "I have an amount of Veritaserum. We'll know for sure what his plans are. Unless you have any objections…" he directed his attention to Malfoy.

"No reason to lie," Malfoy shrugged.

"If he knows what's good for him he'll take it!" Ron growled, refusing to lower his wand.

"Where on Earth did you get ahold of Veritaserum, Remus?" Hermione asked him with astonishment. It was illegal for him to have any in his possession—not that anybody here seemed to have any protest.

Remus just smirked but didn't answer her question.

Malfoy was settled in a chair in the dining room, all attention on him.

"You people sure know how to initiate an interrogation," Draco said dryly before the potion drops were poured into his mouth.

"What's your name?" Remus asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Draco Malfoy."

"How many Death Eaters are outside?" Ron jumped in.

"Two."

"Do they know you're in here?" Remus asked.

"No."

"Does anyone else know you're here?"

"No."

"Why are the Death Eaters after you?"

"They consider me a traitor. I haven't been with my family for the past year. I've been in hiding. Ever since the Dark Lord fell and Bellatrix tried to sloppily take his place, there's no order. There's no chaos and no real goal. I declared the whole operation stupid, and my family's been searching for me ever since."

"Are you here to do any harm to us?"

"No."

"Why are you here?"

"I need somewhere to stay. And before you ask how I know where this place is, let's just say I have my resources. Snape informed me of this hideout before he died. I've never told anyone else. You can cast me out if you want, but being that I'm the closest thing you've got to a inside connection, it would be somewhat advantageous for you to keep me around."

Everyone exchanged nervous glances.

"If it wasn't for the Veritaserum I'd say he was lying…" Ron said skeptically.

"He is right. He's the only chance we have at getting inside information," Molly said, looking rather upset.

"Alright, then," Ginny said snootily. "We'll make him tell us everything he knows, and then throw his arse out!"

"Ginevra! Language!" Molly said indignantly.

"Ginny's right," Harry agreed. "We don't need the likes of him in here."

"But that's immoral," Hermione argued. Malfoy looked up at her, trying to hide his surprise. "He hasn't been with his family in over a year, and he doesn't support what they're doing. Obviously they've disowned him. We can't just use him and then throw him out in the cold."

"Hermione, you're not actually thinking of letting him stay here? After all of those terrible things he's said to you! He—he's worked with You-Know-Who," Ron desperately tried to reason with her.

"Technically," Malfoy cut in. "He gave me one assignment, and I didn't follow through."

"No one's talking to you, ferret!" Ron said nastily.

"You're being completely unreasonable, Ronald," Hermione said calmly, waving her wand to instantly cure Draco of his more shallow wounds. Remus was the one to agree with Hermione fully. He took him upstairs and showed him to his room, gave him a fresh set of robes, and lectured him about the consequences of any "funny business."

"We'll talk more about this tomorrow," Molly said, swiftly clearing the table.

"I agree. I'm beat," Harry said, helping her with the cleanup.

"You'd better believe he'll have some good information to tell us," George said. "I'm not going to live in fear for nothing."

"I hope I can sleep with him on one floor below me…" Ginny said out loud, to no one in particular.

"Well, I've got to sleep with him on the _same _floor as me, and if I can do it, then you can, too," Hermione said. She didn't bother to point out that _they_ could all just go home to sleep whenever they felt like it. This was the only place Hermione had.

Ron grumbled something about his Christmas being ruined before trudging up the stairs gloomily.

"D'you think he'll really help us find the Malfoys and the rest of the Death Eaters? Ginny asked.

"Difficult to say…Malfoys are known for being fiercely loyal, but the Veritaserum never fails."

At least, she thought so.

To say that the whole house was on edge due to Malfoy's apparent unwelcome presence was an understatement. Remus was keeping Teddy far from the house, claiming that he didn't want Malfoy "rubbing off on him." No one dared remind him that Draco was technically Teddy's second cousin. The Weasleys were hanging around more often to "keep an eye" on things, the healthy dose of Veritaserum clearly not enough to calm their frazzled nerves. And of course nothing could have prepared Hermione for seeing Malfoy at the breakfast table every morning. She suddenly found herself checking every room before she entered in a faulty attempt to avoid any confrontation with Malfoy.

"Avoiding me are we, Granger?" Malfoy asked, propping his feet on a nearby chair one morning at breakfast. It would have only proved him right if she turned and left, so she matched his challenging stare and sat down across from him at the circular table.

"You give yourself too much credit," she responded, helping herself to some toast.

"I rather imagine you're just following directions," Malfoy sneered. "No doubt the Weasel doesn't want his precious bookworm near the likes of someone so dangerous."

"You are very much mistaken. Ron doesn't tell me whom I can and cannot associate with," Hermione said, scornful at the very idea.

"Then you're just scared."

"What on Earth would I have to be scared about?" she retorted with a laugh. "They've taken your wand."

He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment Harry entered the kitchen with a sleepy expression and mussed up hair. Pouring himself a cuppa, he turned to Malfoy. "You're going to point out every known hideout of your father's on the map today. You've had enough time to rest and recover."

"Thanks for the heartfelt concern," Malfoy taunted.

"Are you incapable of saying a single remark that's not dripping with sarcasm and cheek?" Hermione asked, frustrated.

"Apparently as capable as you are at putting some decent product in your hair."

She grunted in frustration. Of all the thick, unreasonable warts!

"Hermione, don't let him get to you," Harry said. "Remember who we're dealing with here. You can't expect him to have changed much from school." Apparently talking about him in a negative way like he wasn't there did the trick, because he got up and left the room, leaving the two in peace.

Hermione could tell that George was among the most excited to have potential information about the Malfoys. He frequently launched into stories about how they would storm an underground cave or abandoned mansion and catch them all unawares. Ron shared his enthusiasm, but his all his stories ended with, "And then we can chuck Malfoy out."

Malfoy kept up his end of the bargain and told them everything he knew about their traveling schedule, but disappointed them by saying that their best chance of attack was months from now when the Death Eaters relocated to the Willowgrove house. Harry wasn't having any of it and demanded that they strike immediately. To this, Malfoy only shrugged and said, "Your loss."

After everyone had left the room, Hermione approached Ron and mentally gathered her wits. "Ron. Since we now have the upperhand, I—I'm going to go with you on raids."

"Over my dead body," Ron said simply.

"That's it? 'Over my dead body'? You know I'm capable in a fight—"

"You just don't get it do you, Hermione?" he said, turning to face her. "Their only hobby is killing Muggle-borns. Frankly, having you there would only make a fight worse 'cause we'd all have to focus our attention on protecting you."

Before she could argue that she wouldn't get in the way and knew how to properly defend herself for Merlin's sake, Ron tucked the maps under his arm and left. She turned to follow him but, much to her chagrin, saw Malfoy leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, no doubt having listened to the whole thing. Wanting nothing more than to slap that smug look off his face, she tried to storm past him to fume in peace.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy," she growled.

"It seems to me that your boyfriend's being a little demeaning," he said as she unsuccessfully tried to elbow her way past him.

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione said automatically, not thinking about what she was saying.

Up went that infuriating eyebrow. "Really? And how long has this been going on?" Sensing her hesitation, he continued. "Come on, you can tell me."

Hermione really didn't like his sarcastic tone one bit. "Just because I stood up for you that night doesn't mean I consider you my personal confidant. I was just doing the right thing! Don't for one second think it was because I actually _wanted_ you hanging around Grimmauld."

"I'm hurt, Granger," he said, placing a hand over his heart. Honestly, all the boys in this place were complete _idiots_.

She finally pushed past him and went to find Ginny to complain.

That night at dinner, everyone was seated at the dining table, and Hermione tried her best to shove the unpleasant thoughts pertaining to what had happened earlier out of her mind. Mrs. Weasley had cooked roast beef, so everyone had obviously flocked to dinner the second she announced that it was ready.

"George, I've just seen so little of you lately," Molly said, addressing the redhead who was shoveling a roll into his mouth in a quite unappetizing manner.

"I'd probably hang around more if ickle Ronnie-kins wasn't always pouting and acting like it was his time of the month," he answered indignantly.

"Hey!" Ron protested.

"I hear there's a pill for that," Malfoy said, cutting a small piece of beef.

Ginny snorted into her cup and placed her napkin over her mouth, unable to contain her laughter. The tips of Ron's ears went very pink.

"I'm sure he's just stressed about the attacks," Hermione said. She was able to barely control the half-smile threatening to creep its way onto her face.

Malfoy eyed Hermione, but said nothing. She hadn't been able to hide the smile from him.

"Well, we're all a tad on edge," Molly said, looking pointedly at Draco, who began whistling while cutting the rest of his meat. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but shut it again.

"Oh, don't stop the conversation on my account," Malfoy said with a malicious smile.

"I don't see how you can sit there and stuff your face when it's _your_ father going around killing innocent people," Ron shot at him, ignoring everyone's agreement that they would all be civil.

"Easy," he answered coolly. "I just chew and swallow." He demonstrated this while challenging Ron's stare.

"Oh, just cool it!" Ginny said, irritated at her brother's behavior. "Mum, have you been to Remus' lately? We must bring the poor man some food, he doesn't look like he's eaten in days."

"You're absolutely right. He shouldn't be alone after he's lost Nymphadora. It isn't healthy for him," Molly said, a trace of understanding and sadness in her voice at having lost Arthur.

The rest of dinner was fairly quiet. When Hermione was in the study reading later that evening, Ron joined her with two glasses of wine.

"What's the occasion?" she asked him.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"It wasn't Ginny's idea?"

Ron winced. "I guess I deserved that. I haven't been the easiest to deal with lately."

"No," Hermione agreed quietly. "You haven't."

He didn't have a response for that, so instead he sipped his wine. She took a drink of her own wine and fidgeted with the pages in her book.

"It's just Tonks and Dad…and now having to deal with ferret-face all the time. I don't like him being here when we go out on raids," Ron said angrily.

She rolled her eyes. "Can you stop with the childish names?"

He reached over and squeezed her hand with a chuckle. "I just worry about you."

"I know." There wasn't much else to say. Things had gotten awkward between them. Ron probably didn't notice. Hermione often wished that things were back the way they used to be, with Ron and Harry playing Quidditch, the twins causing mischief, and the all-around innocence that surrounded them all in the early years at school. Ron had been so much easier to talk to. She didn't much like this overprotective, moody side that had emerged ever since the war.


	5. On the Contrary

_V. On the Contrary_

Hermione awoke to loud voices downstairs. She padded out of bed and wrapped a bathrobe around herself. _What on earth?_

She quietly opened her door, silently praying that it wouldn't creak. Making her way down the stairs, she peeked around the corner to see Harry, Ron, and Malfoy in the kitchen all looking very aggravated. She quickly moved back and listened by the stairs.

"—Not my fault they weren't there!" Malfoy was saying.

"You're the one with all the special inside info!" Ron spat back. Hermione heard a fist come down on the table. "Isn't that why we're all putting up with you being here?"

"Listen, I said I'd tell you everything I knew, and I did. Just because they're changing up their schedule a little bit doesn't mean that I'm _lying_, Weasley!"

Harry sighed in frustration. "Then _how_ do you know that they're going to be at Willowgrove like you said?"

"Because," Malfoy said indignantly, "They always regroup at Willowgrove before they launch their full-scale attacks. They're gathering more information about the Order as we speak. You won't be able to hide for much longer, Potter."

"You shut your mouth, Malfoy!" Ron yelled.

"You just asked me for information. Which is it?" he sneered. "Talk or keep my mouth shut?"

Hermione knew that would make him mad.

"Alright, alright," Harry said, intervening. "Look, we need all the help we can get, and so far, you're not helping, Malfoy. You're going to have to do better than that."

"It seems to me that Granger is the only level-headed one in this whole house. The ideas she brings to the table are better than both of yours put together. Maybe if you allowed someone with half a brain onto the field, you might have better luck," Draco replied.

"That's none of your business," Ron hissed. "Hermione isn't well. Surely you've noticed. She doesn't talk to anyone hardly, and she sure as hell hasn't opened up to either one of us." The bitter disappointment was apparent in his voice.

Hermione's cheeks flared. How dare they sit around discussing her 'condition.'

"Has it ever occurred to either of you two whelps that maybe she doesn't want to talk to someone who makes her feel inferior and useless all the time? Maybe if you included her in something once in a while…"

"What do you even care?" Ron countered. "She's not your responsibility."

Malfoy snorted. "She's not a bloody child. She's been through the same shit we all have. What makes her any less weak than the two of you? Hm?"

"I'm going to bed," Ron growled. "I don't have to listen to this."

"Oh, it's nothing you haven't thought about yourself. I guarantee it," Malfoy called after him.

"We'll talk more tomorrow, Malfoy," Harry said, making it sound more like a threat. Hermione shuffled upstairs quickly before they could catch her listening.

She lay in bed for a long time, listening to every sound. She could actually hear Ron pacing back and forth on the floor above her. Eventually she heard Malfoy making his way up the stairs. When the door across from hers shut, she knew it was him turning in for the night, finally.

The next morning, Hermione was the first one awake, as always. Not bothering to throw a bathrobe on over her slip, she stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, craving a strong cup of coffee. Sunlight was peeking in through the windows by the door. Morning was Hermione's favorite time in Grimmauld. Moving into the kitchen, she suddenly realized that she was not the only one awake. She had forgotten that Malfoy was an early riser as well.

Barely hesitating once she saw him, she moved to the coffee maker.

"What, no biting remark this morning?" Malfoy teased.

"Git," she yawned sleepily.

"That's all?" He raised his eyebrow. "You must be losing your touch."

She said nothing, only settled herself at the table while the coffee brewed, grabbing _The_ _Daily Prophet_ off of the table. Malfoy rolled his eyes, snatched her wand off the table and aimed it at the coffee maker, brewing it instantly. He poured two cups and brought them back to the table.

"Honestly, I don't know why you still bother with that Muggle rubbish."

She gave a small smile. "Old habits die hard, I suppose. My parents had all kinds of interesting Muggle contraptions around the house, and over the summers I never had anyone's magic to rely on," she said.

"My, aren't we feeling extra civil this morning?" Draco commented, ruining the mood once more. "Is it my turn to take a trip down Memory Lane?"

Again, saying nothing, she buried her nose in the _Prophet_ while sipping her coffee. He snatched the paper away and looked at her. "You were awake last night, weren't you?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, don't read too much into _that_, Granger. I'm just calling it like it is," he said, referring to the argument he knew she'd overheard.

"I'm sure," she responded icily, grabbing the paper back.

After a few moments, he asked, "So why do it then? Why listen to everything he tells you to do?"

"I do not," she answered automatically.

"Oh, yeah?" he challenged. "Then why are you always sitting here sulking while they're on raids?"

She stuttered slightly. "Ron's just looking out for me. He doesn't want me getting hurt."

"Bollocks," Malfoy replied simply.

"I know I complain sometimes, but he's right. It's probably for the best."

"Merlin, Granger, listen to yourself! You know as well as I do that it's bullshit. You're miserable! I watch you do nothing all day but read and be a submissive doormat towards everyone here! A few years back you would have never allowed yourself to be pushed off to the sidelines. It's all true and you know it," he said very matter-of-factly.

She stared at him completely stunned. Thinking it was one thing, but saying it out loud was completely different.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she finally said. "You haven't been here that long at all, and you already decide you know the complex inner workings of my relationship with Ron? You're not as deep and observant as you'd like to think you are."

"Ah, on the contrary. I pride myself on being self-assured and blatant…or hadn't you noticed?"

"You are the most insufferable—"

"I'd stop right there before you say something you'll regret, love," he interrupted. Hermione's face turned an even deeper shade of red, but before she could unleash her anger on him, he chuckled. "Now that's the kind of anger you need to be releasing on Ron. I knew you had it there somewhere."

At that moment, Ron entered the kitchen and didn't look too happy at seeing Draco and Hermione in the kitchen alone. He immediately took the seat nearest Hermione and picked up the paper that was lying in front of Hermione. She didn't know what to think of Malfoy's sudden change in tone. It was almost as if he respected her more now that she'd managed to show some emotion, even if it was directed towards him.

"I thought I would go down to the Ministry today and visit Luna. She might be handy when it comes to underground Lucius sightings. Merlin knows once the tip-offs reach the big dogs in the Ministry, the Malfoys' spies will know about it, too," Hermione said to Ron.

"You _are_ going down to the Ministry today," Malfoy corrected, referencing their earlier conversation about her being a doormat. Ron shot a glare at Malfoy.

"I don't think it's a good idea. If Lucius has spies working in Luna's department, not only will her tip-offs be rubbish, but the Malfoys will have a shot at you," Ron countered.

"Well then I'm going to Hogsmeade for a drink," Hermione declared, feeling a lot better after asserting herself. She refused to look at Malfoy, knowing that he would have a smug "told-you-so" look on his face.

"With that on, you'll get the drinks for free," Malfoy winked at her, and her cheeks flushed, remembering the night slip she was wearing. Ron looked about ready to leap across the table and pummel Malfoy for making such a suggestive comment about _his_ girl. Hermione quickly rose from the table.

"I'll just—uh, go get dressed," she mumbled, extracting herself from a potentially problematic situation.

She passed Ginny on the way up the stairs.

"Oi, what are you doing walking around dressed like that?" Ginny teased, amused. "I like the risqué side of you."

"Oh, trust me, it caused enough commotion downstairs, that's for sure," Hermione played along.

"Ron?"

"Ron and Malfoy."

"Ah…the plot thickens. Of course Malfoy would be making eyes at you."

Hermione chose to ignore that statement and continued up the stairs. It took her all day to convince herself that she should go to Hogsmeade, and by the time she was finished arguing with herself, it was well into the evening hours. After she had bathed and changed into something more sensible, she went to leave the bathroom. Hesitating on her way out, she remembered what Malfoy had said about product in her hair. Before she could change her mind, she pulled a dusty bottle of Muggle anti-frizz solution out of her medicine cabinet. Her cousin on her mother's side had given it to her as a joke one Christmas. Applying a light coat, she wondered if anyone would notice the difference as she went down the stairs in a considerably happier mood since her decision to visit Hogsmeade. Her hair even looked nice for her first time out in a while. She retrieved her scarcely used scarf and coat from the hall and donned both.

Finding no one in the kitchen or the study, she figured that it would be an ideal time to Apparate to Hogsmeade. For some strange reason, she felt like a small child about to break the rules. She eyed the inviting-looking bookshelf in the corner next to her favorite armchair. _Maybe I could just stay here…_

"Don't even think about it," a deep voice said behind her. She gasped and whirled around. Malfoy was standing in the doorway.

"W-what?" she asked.

"You're thinking about bowing out. Ron's really gotten under your skin," he observed.

"No," she argued.

"Scintillating argument. You've really persuaded me," he said tonelessly. "Honestly, Granger, you've got to stop letting him push you around. He's not even here!"

Before she could say anything, he strode over to her, gripped her arm, and when she opened her eyes, they were standing on the snowy streets of Hogsmeade.


	6. I Like You Better Sober

_VI. I Like You Better Sober_

Subconsciously, Hermione breathed in the scent of chimney smoke, crisp air, and peppermint. She had long associated the winter scent with holidays, and now listening to jingle bells and excited Christmas shoppers talking amongst themselves, the swift arrival of Christmas was finally hitting her.

Hermione couldn't help but smile.

"I don't know about you, but I could use some Firewhiskey. Grimmauld is sorely lacking decent alcoholic beverages," Malfoy grumbled, heading to the Three Broomsticks.

"Alright," Hermione breathed, quickly following after.

As they settled at a table and he ordered, the awkwardness of having a drink with Draco Malfoy sank in. If only they could see her now…

As if reading her mind, Malfoy suddenly said, "So how does it feel to go against what the Weasel orders? Pretty refreshing, hm?" He punctuated this by downing the shot in front of him.

"Yes," she admitted. "I haven't been out of Grimmauld in months. I left once for the funeral, and even then Ron watched me like a hawk."

"Funeral?" he questioned.

She finally picked up her glass and downed the shot, the alcohol burning her throat as it went down. "Yes. Arthur and Tonks."

"I see. So that's why Lupin has been especially pitiful lately."

Hermione glared at him. "His wife, the mother of his only child, is dead, so of course he's been 'upset' lately." Another shot went down.

"My second cousin…How come I haven't seen him around at all?" Malfoy asked, almost imperceptibly motioning for another round.

"Remus doesn't want you to be a bad influence on him," Hermione admitted, probably more due to the whiskey.

"Now what bad things could I possibly have to teach him? With my highly toned skills at picking up women, the kid would have nothing but good fortune while under my instruction," he declared.

Hermione hesitated. "Are we…actually getting along?" she asked.

He looked at her in disgust. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

And with that, they settled into an uncomfortable silence. Hermione eyed him warily and took back another shot. "Where were you those two years after the battle at Hogwarts?"

She noticed him stiffen, but he answered nonetheless with a shrug. "Here and there. All of my friends were Death Eaters, and I could only stay with them for so long before word got round that I was a 'traitor.'"

"What about the hefty Malfoy bank vault?" she asked in a mocking voice.

"Parents put a freeze on it," he answered simply. She swirled her drink around and thought about how difficult it must have been for the spoiled boy to get along without his money. When she inquired about it, he scowled. "I'm smart enough to get on just fine without money. I'm not as helpless and vulnerable without my money as you might think."

Hermione burst into laughter. Maybe it was at how defensive he got. She wasn't exactly sure. He just stared at her, completely unamused. The bartender came over with another tray of drinks, but Malfoy's upper lip curled at him. "No more over here. We've had quite enough."

"Yeah, right. You've clearly had barely any," Hermione slurred slightly, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.

Malfoy rolled his eyes again. "I've had just as many as you. I just know how to hold my liquor, unlike _some_ people."

"Draco Malfoy, I am not drunk!" she exclaimed. He winced as several people looked over at them from other tables.

"Let's go," he mumbled, pulling her up from the table.

After they stepped outside the bar, Hermione began to shiver and wrapped her coat tightly around herself in an attempt to shield herself from the chilly night air.

"Let's Apparate back to Grimmauld, now," she said. He caught a hold of her.

"_You're_ not Apparating. You'll probably land us somewhere in Iceland."

She scowled and held on tight as he Apparated smoothly into the front hall.

"Is anyone here?" she whispered loudly.

"I don't know," he said, not whispering. Realizing that she was still gripping his arm, she immediately released it. Just the thought of Malfoy's proximity was enough to sober her up.

"Coffee," she said, heading for the kitchen.

After they each had a steaming mug, they retreated to the study. It was late enough so that everyone else was asleep. They sipped their coffee in silence until Hermione said, "D'you think Ron's going to be very angry when he found out I left?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Before we delve into the topic of Ron Weasley, I should warn you now, I'm only half sober."

"That's more than I can say," she broke off into a quiet fit of giggles and threw herself on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

"I'd be willing to bet you're not nearly this carefree around Weasel," Malfoy said with an amused hint in his voice.

She sighed and continued to stare at the ceiling. "He wants me to marry him," she said quietly.

"That's pretty heavy shit," he answered. She sat up again and retrieved her mug from the coffee table.

"You're telling me."

"Don't take this the wrong way," he warned. "…You're not happy around him."

"That's not true," she automatically countered. "I care about Ron loads. We've been best friends since school."

"Things change."

"Not this."

"Then why haven't you said yes?"

When she didn't answer, he didn't press any further. "What do you honestly see in him with all that red hair and freckles? It can't be the sex," he said confidently, that haughty Malfoy attitude returning.

She blushed furiously, taking a drink of her coffee just to have something to do. "That is _absolutely_ none of your business."

"That modest blush tells me everything I need to know," he said simply, taking a drink from his own mug.

"It tells you nothing!" she insisted. "You don't know anything."

"Who're you trying to convince?" he asked, now sincerely trying to piss her off. It was sobering her up instantly.

"You're so—"

"Charming?"

"_Irritating_. I think I like you better sober."

"Don't delude yourself. You don't like me at all. But don't worry, the feeling's mutual."

"Well—" she searched for something to throw back at him. "I only told you what I did because you were a last resort."

He raised an eyebrow at her desperate comment. "Your bland, generic insults are more clever than your 'witty' comebacks."

She scowled and left the room. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

Now he was laughing. Honestly.

_Why me?_ Hermione groaned inwardly as she stuffed another pillow over her head. She had woken up in her clothes, sprawled out over the sheets with a small trail of drool running onto the pillow. Very attractive. She had a pounding headache from the Firewhiskey the night before. Her conversation with Malfoy returned to her memory and this time she groaned aloud.

"Damn it…" she muttered.

She traipsed down the stairs, her very footsteps making her head worse. _Coffee_…The tantalizing scent had lured her into the kitchen. She had slept in later than usual, and George, Ginny, Draco, and Molly were already downstairs, having arrived earlier that morning.

"You fixed your hair," Ginny exclaimed, commenting on Hermione's leftover product that was still doing its job.

"What's the matter with you, Hermione? Your clothes are so wrinkled they look like they've been slept in," George declared.

Only Hermione caught Draco's smirk. It wasn't fair: he looked completely refreshed. No one would be able to tell by looking at him that he had gone out for drinks the night before. _I know how to hold my liquor_, he had said. Apparently so.

"Rough night," was all Hermione said as she dropped into a chair with a cup of coffee. Mrs. Weasley _tsk tsked_ and went about cleaning the dishes. Everyone knew good and well that Molly could whip up the best potion for hangovers, having had five teenage boys in the house, but she apparently felt that Hermione deserved whatever she got.

"Ron was pouting all night," Ginny observed. "Said you'd gone off to Hogsmeade or summat."

"Yes," Hermione answered hesitantly. "I went out for a drink."

"Ha!" George said loudly enough to send a twinge of pain through her pounding head. "More like eight."

"Ugh, George, go bury your head," Ginny said in disgust. "She deserves to have a little celebration."

"And what exactly would she be celebrating?" George wanted to know.

"Getting out on her own, of course. Anyone would be driven stir crazy staying cooped up in Grimmauld for too long."

Remus Apparated into the kitchen, Teddy squirming in his arms. He didn't like Side-Along Apparition very much. Before he could get too many tears out, Mrs. Weasley scooped him up and gave him a cookie.

"Hello, Remus," Hermione said, genuinely happy to see him. "How are things at home?"

Remus shrugged. "As good as they can be. Teddy is…confused." He didn't have to say anything else.

She nodded to let him know she understood and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Before he could allow himself to get too in depth with his current situation, he shot Malfoy a look of pure venom and led Teddy out of the room by his tiny hand.

Hermione followed Malfoy when he stood up to retreat to the study, earning some pointed looks from Ginny and George.

"Don't tell me that upset you," Hermione said almost condescendingly.

"Hey, I feel for the guy, I really do, but he's still treating me like it's my fault," he answered, facing the bookcase.

Hermione was shocked that something so simple would hurt Draco's feelings. She had stopped thinking that he actually had feelings ages ago. Of course there were things that upset him, she reminded herself, feeling absolutely tactless. He just chose to not let it show.

"You have to understand that when he looks at you, he only sees the son of the man responsible for the death of his wife. You have to give him time," she reassured him.

"I don't _want_ to be his bloody friend," he snapped, quickly putting up his wall again.

Hermione stood there for a few more moments before walking out, letting him stew in his own pent up agony.

She did her best to avoid Ron all day, knowing that there would be hell to pay when he finally did find her. It was quite fortuitous that Grimmauld was packed with secret dusty rooms that one could explore and hide in all day, and that's exactly what she did. Finding Sirius' old room, she tried to imagine what it must have been like for him growing up in a household so full of hate. It was truly a miracle that he turned out as decent as he did. Maybe there was hope for a certain Malfoy to reject the negative upbringing he'd had…

Hermione didn't get her hopes up.

"So were you planning on letting me know you returned safely at all?" Ron asked bitterly later that day when he cornered her in her room.

She let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm fine, Ronald."

"You should have told me when you were going so I could come with," he said angrily.

"I wanted some time to myself," she lied, wisely choosing to leave Malfoy out of it.

"You should have told me when you got back! I was worrying all day," he replied, his voice rising.

"Funny, now you know how it feels," she said dryly. "I'm not going to check in with you all the time. You're clingy, overprotective, irrational, and selfish, and I'm through with it."

The hurt was visible on his freckled face, and she immediately felt guilty for unloading on him like that.

"So that's how you feel, then?" he mumbled, showing her a side of him she hadn't seen since Hogwarts.

"Come on, I didn't mean it like that. I only meant—"

"Oh, shove off!" He left abruptly and stormed up to his bedroom on the third floor. She, however, traipsed miserably downstairs to retrieve a book, thoroughly intent on shutting herself in her room the rest of the day.

As she reached the study, she didn't even realize that there were tears building up in her eyes until Malfoy looked up at her and muttered, "Oh, for fuck's sake. What's he done this time?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, not wanting to give anything away.

He rolled his eyes, not buying it. "As if we all couldn't hear you shouting at each other and stomping around up there. The waterworks are quite apparent."

"I don't want to sit here and listen to your sarcasm and arsehole remarks!" she exclaimed angrily. She turned to leave without her book but he quickly stood up and caught her by the arm.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? Relax." He looked rather uncomfortable. "There's no need for you to be a reclusive hobbit all day just because the Weasel has insecurities that he chooses to unleash on you."

Stunned by Malfoy's sudden display of caring, she silently made her way to the bookcase where she retrieved a rather heavy first edition of _Silencing Charms and What They Can Do For You!_ Malfoy snorted at the cover and Hermione smiled, catching his implication.


	7. Dysfunctional Therapy Session

_VII. Dysfunctional Therapy Session._

Draco refilled both his and Hermione's glasses with Firewhiskey, and handed her the glass, swirling his own drink around and contemplated his getting drunk yet again with Hermione. They were seated in one of the many unoccupied rooms at Grimmauld on the fourth floor. Upon entering, Hermione had muttered a quick spell under her breath to clear the dust away. Ron had come back that night, and they had quickly retreated upstairs, stifling their laughter so as not to be found out.

Once they had heard Ron ask, "Has anyone seen Hermione?" from downstairs, Hermione completely lost it, falling back in laughter. He felt quite like a young student at Hogwarts, running away and hiding in an attempt to avoid a detention.

He had only Apparated her to Hogsmeade because he honestly liked seeing the Weasel in a fit, and he knew that was exactly how to do it. She clearly had wanted to go, she'd even fixed her hair, for Merlin's sake! A strange feeling stirred in his chest when he realized that she'd only anti-frizzed her mess of a hairdo after he had commented on it. If only Ron had known that his beloved had had company at the Three Broomsticks. He had quickly found, however, that Hermione's company was a nice break from the constant whining about battle plans.

Two years ago he would have hexed the person who suggested that he would be sharing a late-night drink with the likes of Granger. But she was witty, sensible, and when prompted, had a fiery attitude that greatly outshone the Weasley girl's. She was certainly the only one in the bloody house that didn't look at him like he would strike out at any minute or summon the Dark Lord back from the dead and sic him on them.

"So you were only a Death Eater for those two years?" Hermione had turned the conversation to a more serious topic, and the two of them were sobering up quite quickly.

He nodded, his hand subconsciously going to his left forearm, rubbing it as if there was suddenly an uncomfortable feeling to it. If Hermione noticed, she didn't make it known. "I took the Dark Mark in my seventh year—not that I was really all that dedicated—and I backed out shortly after the battle at Hogwarts."

"I thought you followed You-Know-Who's cause," she said quietly.

He scoffed. "I wasn't loyal to anyone or anything in school. I was a selfish prat who only cared for myself."

"And Pansy Parkinson," Hermione giggled.

"Don't even remind me of _that_ cow," Draco said, screwing his face up comically. "I suppose it was better than hanging out with Wonderboy and Weasel, though." He smirked satisfactorily.

"Oh, you're still a prat," she teased. "You were awful in school. I couldn't stand the sight of you."

"Nor I you. You were so completely convinced that you knew everything."

"And you were so convinced that you were the best person in the whole school."

"I was. And the wizarding world as well."

"Right," she snorted. "And Myrtle wasn't out to jump your bones." Draco looked over at her in surprise, causing her to laugh. "You looked positively terrified every time you passed by that lavatory; anyone could have figured it out."

After a pause, she added, "But I never would have figured you'd turn to our side."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. "Bellatrix was going about everything the wrong way, and after watching my father try to desperately take over the position after the fall of the Dark Lord, I realized that it was all a load. Blood status wasn't going to save them from the Ministry."

Hermione gave him a pointed look. "You don't just 'realize' that your entire lifestyle is bollocks. What happened?"

He stared at her. Of course she would make that connection and call him out on it. Fine. He could be straight up with her. "It basically happened when one of my cousins got taken in by the Ministry. She had been in Azkaban for three months before she escaped. You know, an inside job. When she came back to us, the Dementors had messed with her head so completely that she was never right again. I suppose it was then—and the fact that my family was constantly in hiding—that I realized that blood purity wasn't going to save us. Despite the fact that my father had spies in the Ministry, we weren't so above the law that we could stroll about in the open. We were being hunted like…well, like the Dark Lord hunted down Muggle-borns."

Hermione was silent for his whole speech, taking it all in. He was dying for her to say something, whether she laugh at his weakness or berate his ignorance. For some reason he was striving for her admiration, not that he'd admit it to her.

"I think," she started slowly, "that you're much better off without your family. Their ideals and logic are clearly flawed."

"That's it?" he couldn't help asking. "No innate words of wisdom you wish to bestow upon the immorality of my soul?"

She laughed softly. "I think you've learned your lesson."

He shrugged. "Have I?" When she gave him a questioning look, he added, "I'm a traitor to my own flesh and blood."

Hermione only rolled her eyes. "Maybe to your family, but look at what they're doing. Killing innocent people is not a situation that you should be ashamed of separating yourself from."

"What about an oppressive, unhealthy environment? Does that warrant an extraction?"

"What are you talking about? Your family?"

"No. You."

The look on her face as she gained comprehension of what he was referring to was a mixture of resentment and contemplation. "Do you enjoy making me feel even more insecure?" she finally said.

Letting out a sigh, he set down his glass and turned away from the fireplace. "Although it may come as a surprise to you, Granger, I don't always have the intention of getting on your nerves. I say things like that to make you wake up and smell what you're shoveling. You're not fooling me when you say that things around here are fair, and you're certainly not fooling yourself."

Merlin, when did this become a fucking therapy session? Hermione tried her best to hide the shine building up in her eyes, but he saw it. She would be so much happier if she didn't surround herself with people that held her back. Not that he cared about her happiness, of course.

"Who are you to be lecturing me on a healthy lifestyle? You've got more flaws as a human being than any of us here," she said, her voice wavering. "None of us were Death Eaters."

"At least I've accepted who I was and have moved on," he sneered. "You're in more denial than Ron!"

"I'm just trying to be safe," she answered, her voice rising.

"Then by all means, stay here, but grow a backbone for fuck's sake."

"You're such a despicable inbred," she retorted.

"A despicable inbred with a clear conscience and a plan to move forward, at least."

"Ugh!"

Her cheeks were red as she turned away from him, attempting to calm herself down. Draco found this absolutely charming.

"You could give the Weasley girl a run for her money, you know. If you would only release all that pent up anger," he commented, pouring himself a tad more whiskey.

Hermione turned and tried to conceal a small smile. "I'm not so sure. She's a force to be reckoned with."

"'Hell hath no fury'," he quoted, toasting her.

Later that night, Draco lay staring at the ceiling in his room. He had been surprised that Lupin had led him to the sensible quarters he was in now instead of just throwing him in the cellar, which no doubt Weasel would have done. His room even had an adjoining bath. Thinking about it now, he decided that Lupin was the second most tolerable in the household—Weasel and Molly obviously being the least. Draco saw how every morning the insufferable woman had to be coerced into setting a breakfast plate out for Draco. He wouldn't have any trouble Conjuring his own breakfast if his wand hadn't been confiscated for obvious reasons. He rolled over, frustrated, wondering when they were going to trust him enough to return it to him. That is if Weasel hadn't snapped it in half yet.

He and Hermione had parted ways less than thirty minutes ago. The house was silent and sleeping, and no one had heard them descend the stairs to the second floor to their bedrooms. He wondered if Granger was having trouble falling asleep as well. He rolled their conversation around in his head, the destructive relationship she upheld with Weasel bothering him more than it should have. She was absolutely right. What business of his was it to get involved in their affairs? Well, originally just to make Weasel squirm, but now he felt as if there was something more deep-rooted to it.

His eyelids feeling heavy, Draco finally succumbed to sleep—or tried to, before he heard the rustling noises coming from across the hall. Rolling over, he waved it off as nothing. Then he heard the cries.

They were soft, and they sounded feminine. Groaning, he threw the cover off of him and slowly opened his door. The hallway was empty, but the distressed noises were definitely coming from Hermione's room directly across the hall. Uneasy, he hesitated at her door. He didn't hear anyone else in there. Should he knock? Walk in?

He rapped three times on the door. _No one else can hear her because we're the only ones on this floor, probably_. No answer. He knocked again, louder. "Granger," he hissed. No answer.

He slowly turned the knob, hoping that the gods of immorality didn't strike him down for entering a woman's room uninvited in the middle of the night. He peeked in, and his eyes adjusted to the dimness. She was alone in her bed, thrashing about, calling out in her sleep. Contemplating leaving her, he worried about somebody else waking up from her noise. He crossed the threshold and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Granger."

Her skin was much too warm and her hair was stuck to her face. Draco felt a twinge of sympathy when her eyebrows cinched together in fear and grief of whatever nightmare she was having. Just a twinge, though. "Granger." He shook her slightly, rousing her.

Gathering confidence (it was just Granger, for Merlin's sake), he looked around her room. It wasn't much different from his, only her sheets were pale pink instead of the royal blue in his. He would have preferred them in green, however.

"D-Draco?" she asked, surprised. She wiped her forehead and sat up more, revealing the slip that he had seen her wearing in the kitchen. If the circumstances were different, he would have commented on it again, just to see that pale flush.

"I see we're having nightmares? No doubt of sexual encounters with one Ron Weasley."

"Shut your pie hole, Malfoy. If you're going to have the indecency to sneak into my bedroom at night, then at least refrain from mentioning my sex-life," she growled.

"Oh, but I'm well practiced at sneaking in and out of girls' rooms. Hogwart's girls relished it, actually," he commented with a sly grin.

She fell back on the pillows and placed a hand on her face. "Don't you have dreams about the old days?" she asked in a softer voice

When he didn't answer, she pressed on. "Oh, come on. You saw just as much death as the rest of us…perhaps more."

"I would take a dreamless draught," he said simply, turning to leave, refusing to share anything further.

"Wait," she said suddenly. If the house wasn't so deadly silent, he wasn't sure if he would have heard her. He stopped in his path, but didn't turn around. He couldn't convey the sympathy he felt for her at that moment. There wasn't any sensible way to tell a frightened girl that the nightmares probably weren't going to stop anytime soon. And she _was_ frightened. No doubt he knew she was dreaming of shadows and Death Eaters, an exclusive part of the world he was unfortunately all too familiar with. "Thanks," she said tentatively, as if unsure what else to say. He nodded and left.


	8. Trust

_VIII. Trust_

For the next two weeks, Hermione spent half of her nights up talking to Draco. Whether it was serious or lighthearted, reminiscing or present, they always seemed to find something. And the common factor in every conversation was that they bickered over one thing or another. Draco's favorite topic, she noticed, seemed to involve insulting Ron and Harry, while she ended up berating him in some way or another for it.

No one in the house seemed to notice besides Ginny, who mainly took to shaking her head or rolling her eyes at the inside smirks shared between Hermione and Draco at the breakfast table. Ginny thankfully didn't confront Hermione about her new comfort with talking to the notorious Draco Malfoy. She wasn't sure how she would react to being accused of such a thing.

Not that she didn't have the chance, though. Upon celebrating Ginny's birthday, they both were rather giggly from the Butterbeer consumed, and spent all evening decorating the house with lopsided Christmas decorations, even though they knew Mrs. Weasley would go about behind them and fix them. Ron gave Hermione pitiful looks from across the giant, pink frosted birthday cake in the middle of the table. Teddy apparently couldn't wait for the cake to be cut, and promptly reached out his tiny fist to grab a white frosting rose on top of the cake, earning him a scolding from Remus, but everyone else seemed to find it in good humor. The party was enjoyable, and Hermione even bribed Teddy to run up and place a party hat on top of Draco's head, who had spent the duration of the get-together sitting with his arms crossed in a chair. She was glad to see him lighten up and smile as Teddy ran away deviously, as if he had accomplished some great feat.

After blowing out her candles, Harry had planted a rather scandalous kiss on Ginny, causing Ron to blush and George to whistle loudly. Ginny didn't seem to care, and her eyes sparkled as she laughed and opened her presents. At that moment, Hermione almost forgot about the war surrounding them and Death that seemed to hang in every corner, threatening to ensnare any one of them if their guard was let down for even an instant. She looked over at Draco and saw a strange mixture of emotions on Draco's face that she couldn't quite pinpoint. Seeing that she'd spotted him, he quickly stood and left the room.

"What was all that about?" Hermione asked Draco as she sat beside him in the study.

"What was what?" he asked dryly, absentmindedly flipping through a book Hermione was sure he had no idea of the contents.

"Well…that. You looked like you swallowed a dungbomb on your way out."

"I guess the presence of all the Weasleys will do that to any sane person. What are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be in there with the rest of them?" He said this like they were some sort of unpleasant disease. Hermione frowned.

"You know, no one's making you stay here. The least you can do is be grateful for room and food," she said, crossing her arms.

He held out his arms in disbelief. "No one's making me stay here? Think logically, Granger," he sneered. "They've taken my wand, so I won't be able to get along too bloody well if I left. And your precious Weasel would turn me into the Ministry if I tried to leave."

"Well then why did you come here in the first place?" Hermione asked, exasperated.

He gave her a steely glare, and answered, "Don't think for one second that it was for the pleasure of your company. There were Death Eaters on my tail. Grimmauld is enchanted and concealed. Where would you have gone?" He slammed his book shut, leaving the study and disappearing up the stairs.

Hermione stood there for a moment or two, staring at the empty chair in disbelief. How had they turned this into a fight? _We turn everything into a fight_, she reminded herself. Suddenly, she felt anger. How dare he complain about their hospitality? They were risking a lot by sheltering him there, too, and all he did was make snarky comments about the Weasleys.

Heading after him up the stairs, she planned to give him a piece of her mind. He wanted her to start asserting herself? Well, that's exactly what she would do. Without knocking, she threw his door open, mouth open, ready to shoot a remark at him regarding his lack of sensitivity towards others. She quickly took a step back, however, when she saw that he had been in the process of changing his shirt, his back uncovered and facing her. She gasped involuntarily at the angry scar running down his skin, marring what would have been a flawless, sculptured back.

She saw his shoulders tense as he quickly yanked another shirt on, turning around to face her as he buttoned it up. He didn't even bother to hide his angry expression.

"Draco…" she trailed off, at a loss for words. He seemed to tense further at her mention of his first name aloud. "I'm sorry. I should have…knocked." Her words sounded awkward and unsure, and she hated that.

He shot her a look laced with an emotion that she could not recognize.

"You're a _fool_ for trusting me," he spat.

She immediately shut the door and leaned against the wood paneling in the hallway. How could she be so stupid? She had no business even _talking_ to him. He had seen more than she could ever imagine, and it was silly and childish to think that they could ever have anything in common. Deep down, she knew he was right: she did trust him, or else she wouldn't have just barged into his room uninvited. When had that happened? Scrunching her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose in response to the headache she could feel coming on, she didn't notice Ron approaching her in the hallway.

"Hermione?"

She jumped, and looked up at him. "Yes? What? I'm going to join the party again in a moment. I'm just—I have a headache," she babbled.

At the worst possible timing, Draco's door opened. "You're still here?" he asked, before he could see Ron standing there.

Ron looked back and forth between them. "Hermione?" he asked again, only this time it held a different weight.

"I apologize, Ronald. I was just previously informing Mr. Malfoy here, that if he is going to have such a sour attitude at a party, he should extract himself. Which he did. So I'm leaving now," Hermione said smartly, turning on her heel and leaving both of them in the hallway.

She heard Draco's door slam again, and Ron, of course, trailed after her in the hall.

"What was _that_?" he asked, with seemingly genuine curiosity.

"It was exactly what I said," she answered airily, taking the steps rather quickly.

"Since when do you care if Malfoy's stinking up the place? He does that on a regular basis."

"Not on Ginny's birthday, he doesn't, okay?"

She was really starting to tire of the men in Grimmauld.

That night, Hermione had put a very drunk, very disoriented Ginny to bed, as Harry was wrapped up in a deep conversation with Ron. While Hermione nursed a cup of tea at the kitchen table, Molly bustled about, putting pans and plates and the aftermath of the party away. Hermione had offered her help, but Molly had declined. Finished up, Molly sat down at the seat across the table, putting her feet up and sighing.

"So, how are you and Ron doing?" she asked, clearly looking for signs of improvement.

Hermione chose her words carefully. "We're not…worse. I've just needed some time to myself. You know, to sort things out."

"Hm," Molly answered, as if she didn't really know at all. "Life's short."

"I just don't think now is the best time for us to get married. Ron really has his hands full with the Death Eaters," Hermione tried again.

"He might pay you a bit more attention if you were willing to open up to him," she answered, giving her a pointed look. It was clear she'd been speaking to Ron about this. Okay, she might have been a bit reclusive after the war had claimed so many of her friends, but just because she didn't feel like blubbering on the nearest shoulder about it didn't mean she wasn't willing to share her feelings with Ron. She hated how the whole thing was being twisted back on her, as if it were her fault. All she'd asked for was a little room to breathe, some leg room, but Ron was so very oppressive.

Sighing, Molly assumed she wasn't going to get any more of a response from Hermione. Well, what did she expect? _"You're right, Mrs. Weasley! Go fetch Ron right this instant so we can book a chapel."_

As Molly stood, Hermione took in her increasing gray hairs and frown lines set in her aging face. The war had taken a toll on everyone—just not all in the same way. After the rest of the house had either gone to sleep or Apparated home, Hermione stared at the doorway to the study. Should she go wait in there for Draco? Would he come tonight? Despite their hundredth argument, she was oddly addicted to their late-night conversations.

Making an abrupt decision, Hermione rose from the table and settled into her armchair in the study.

Draco ran a hand through his hair as he watched Hermione sleeping restlessly in the armchair, the embers of the dying fire setting the room in a glow. She had been waiting for him, regardless of their fight. No doubt she had questions for him, and he wasn't willing to answer them, despite everything she had told him. For the majority of his stay at Grimmauld, he had maintained an indifferent attitude towards Granger. Lately, he had not only found her presence tolerable, but actually found himself going out of his way to meet her in the study late at night when the rest of Grimmauld was sleeping soundly. Was it wrong that the only reason he had initially struck up conversation with her was to annoy Weasel? Probably not. At least, the instincts he had lived with his whole life said it wasn't.

With one more glance at the sleeping form on the chair, he turned around and walked back to his room without a backward glance.


	9. Specific Target

_IX. Specific Target_

Stretching her neck, she glanced around the study, irritated. There was a bad crick in her neck and shoulders, and she doubted she was going to get any relief all day. _That's what you get for falling asleep in the armchair_. The smell of coffee wafted over to her, and she automatically craved a cup. She noticed a steaming cup already sitting next to her on the table, and she looked around the room, as if the person who put it there would still be hanging around.

Wrapping her fingers around the cup, she stood and stretched, heading for the stairs, eager to change out of her clothes. A hot shower…that's what she needed. On the way up the stairs she bumped into Ginny, who looked equally disgruntled.

"That must be some hangover," Hermione commented.

"No kidding," Ginny grumbled, as if her very steps worsened her headache. "Listen, do you want to have some brunch at the Leaky Cauldron with me later?"

"That sounds excellent, I just need to shower."

"Ugh. Likewise. I'll meet you down here in thirty minutes."

Ron was speaking in a panicked voice that he was very much trying to hide.

"I'm going out with Ginny for some lunch," Hermione said, throwing on her coat.

"Lunch? There's food here," he frowned.

"Would you like to make a delicious meal for the two of us, then?" Ginny asked, with a hint of amusement in her voice.

"Where are you eating?"

"The Leaky Cauldron."

"Can't you go someplace less…conspicuous?" Ron asked.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look. "He's right," Hermione agreed, teasing. "Knockturn Alley is much less crowded."

"Knockturn Alley?" Ron bellowed, gripping Hermione's arm. "You'd be practically walking into Malfoy territory."

"The Leaky Cauldron it is, then," Ginny decided. Ron didn't loosen his hold.

"How long will you be gone?"

Hermione extracted her arm from his grip with some effort. "As long as it takes us to eat. Do you mind?"

"I'm coming with you," he announced.

Hermione's spirits were somewhat dampened as she sat next to Ron at a table in the Leaky Cauldron, trying to have a decent conversation with Ginny. This was proving to be rather difficult, since Ron was a terrible distraction, checking all the corners of the room and fastening his eyes on the door to observe everyone coming in.

"Ron, _really_," Ginny said with a disgusted look on her face. She then straightened. "Look at that guy who just came in. He looks rather shady. I think you should go check him out!"

Hermione tried to stifle her laugh as Ron nodded officially and headed over to the hooded character with a threatening, "Hey, buddy!"

As soon as he was out of earshot she allowed herself to share a laugh with Ginny. "What's gotten into him?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure, but I don't understand how you put up with it," Ginny said, spearing a piece of bacon with her fork.

"Not very well," Hermione admitted. "Your mum is definitely pressuring me to accept his proposal."

Ginny sipped her water and contemplated this. "Well, don't you want to?"

"Like I've told her, I don't think this is the right time for us to be married. He hardly has any time for me as it is." The salad she was eating suddenly became much more tasteless.

"Does…Malfoy have anything to do with it?" Ginny asked, a strange look on her face.

"Of course not!" Hermione answered.

Ginny shook her head and laughed. "Just asking. He has been helpful and seems sincere to bring his father to the Ministry."

Their conversation was cut short as Ron rejoined them at the table. "Everything's fine," he said with an air of authority, as if they were both in an irrational state of panic.

Ginny rolled her eyes, not that Ron seemed to notice. "Well, thank Merlin we had you here with us."

Hermione was thoroughly miffed by the time lunch was over and they had all Apparated back to Grimmauld.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, following her up the stairs and into her room, having finally gotten past his male obliviousness to notice that she was upset about something.

"What's wrong?" Hermione repeated. Ron shut the door behind him, sensing that this was going to turn into a scene. "You're so…" she trailed off, at a loss for the proper insult. "You were completely intrusive on our lunch today! How can I possibly enjoy myself with you hovering around me twenty-four seven?"

She strode over to the bedroom door, throwing it open, about to leave the situation before she said something she might regret.

"Hermione, I _have_ to keep an eye on you," he protested. Turning back around, she glared at him fiercely. There was something strange in his tone.

"_Why_?" she demanded.

He shifted uncomfortably. It was the first time in a long while she had seen Ron acting shy and unsure of himself; she was going to find out why. "Why?" she repeated again.

"I told you already."

"There's something you're not telling me. What is it?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"They're targeting you, specifically, okay?" he said finally.

"What are you talking about? Elaborate, Ronald."

"They think that hurting you would be a quick way to get to Harry, you being his best friend, and all. Targeting Ginny wouldn't be as effective to them because she's not…well, Muggleborn. You would be the ultimate revenge for them."

She stood dumbstruck for a few seconds, taking in this new information. "How exactly did you find that out? And how long have you known? You didn't think to tell me something like this?"

"Okay, so I've known for a few weeks. Malfoy told us. I didn't tell you because you're already not doing well—" he immediately pressed his lips together once he realized what he had said.

A few years back, she probably would have lashed out at him, but now she just sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling mostly betrayed by Draco. "I'm doing _fine_," she said quietly, her voice betraying none of the wave of emotions she felt. "There's nothing wrong with me. So, did everybody in the house know but me, then?"

A pointed silence from Ron told her all she needed to know.

Leaving the room abruptly, she flew up the stairs and went into one of the many unoccupied, forgotten rooms. It was one she and Draco had previously occupied; she noticed this as she looked around the room and saw that the layers of dust had been _Scourgified_ away, the fireplace recently used. Waiting for the burning flush to leave her cheeks, she paced the room restlessly and mentally berated herself for always running away. Maybe Draco was right—what if she _was_ a doormat? The most humiliating thing of all was that everyone else in the house knew as well. She could imagine them all huddled together, discussing poor, poor Hermione. She scowled and pushed the thought away.

She was a grown woman and she didn't need Ron to tell her what to do and forbid her from leaving the house. If that was the case, then why did she continue to listen to him? This mental battle continued in her head for some time, a tiring pull back and forth between the two sides. She almost didn't notice the door opening and Draco slipping into the darkness with her.

Hermione aimed her wand at the fire and instantly started it. He was carrying a glass of some amber liquid, and it was already half gone. Her face was illuminated in the glow of the fire, and she knew she looked mad.

"Why didn't you tell me your father was after me?" she said, her tone accusing and sharp.

He shrugged, and leaned against the wall. "I didn't think it was important."

"Important? I've got the Dark Lord's followers trying to track me down and you don't think it's important that I know? It is most certainly my business." Realization dawned on her, and she continued her accusations. "You let me leave that night for the Three Broomsticks!"

"So what, Granger?" he retorted with almost a careless tone of voice. His calmness was insufferable. "Even so, does that mean that you want to spend the rest of your life in hiding? What kind of life is that? You're not honestly thinking that Weasel was justified in trying so hard to keep you under his thumb, are you?"

She bit her lip, contemplating. His silver eyes flashed.

"You're only helpless if you allow him to dictate your thoughts," he said knowingly. "You have a choice. You can let Weasel run over you completely, and stay trapped in this house all day, or you can have a _life_."

The mental battle continued in Hermione's head, and she must have had a pained look on her face, because Draco wordlessly held out his drink to her, which she accepted.

Hermione and Draco fell back into their usual insomniac tendencies, Draco apparently satisfied that she wasn't going to ask any prying questions about his scar. Hermione was willing to keep her questions to herself as long as he was willing to keep his mouth shut about Ron. Hermione was glad to have an excuse to stay up and avoid her nightmares.

"Are you going on raids with them, then?" she asked him dully one night, bitter that yet another person got to contribute to their cause without her.

"It was considered at one point," he said contemplatively, swirling his drink around, staring into the fire. "But if my father discovered I was aiding Wonderboy, their whole tactic would change. My father is a very organized man. Once he finds a formula that fits, he continues to use it until it doesn't. He will never set foot in Willowgrove if he knows I've been feeding you information."

"I suppose you're stuck with me here, then," Hermione commented, chewing on a biscuit leftover from dinner. She would never admit how grateful she was to have company that wasn't nagging her to marry Ron, like everyone else. If anything, her and Draco shared the common factor that they weren't to leave the house. Hermione clung to this like a lifeboat.

He sighed in mock defeat. "I suppose you're right."

"Bloody—"

Hermione's gaze shot to the doorway of the study, where Ron was standing there looking livid in his scarlet robe. His face was slowly becoming the same color as his bed robe.

"Hermione?" His tone demanded explanation. Malfoy said nothing, just took another swig of his drink and looked bored. Deciding that she was not in the mood for this, Hermione got up and retreated to her room.

Hermione ignored Ron's calls at her bedroom door, angry at first, and then pleading to come in. She held back a smirk when she heard Draco on the other side of the door. "D'you mind, mate? I'm trying to sleep."

Ron huffed and exclaimed, "I'm not your mate!" before stomping up the stairs to return to his own room. Ron had been sleeping more often at Grimmauld ever since Draco had arrived. She knew she was going to hear from him tomorrow.

_Darkness was all she could comprehend. Thick, suffocating darkness, pulling her down into its greedy depths. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. Just when she thought she couldn't bear it anymore, hooded figures broke abruptly through the inky abyss. _

_She found herself standing in a nondescript chamber, and the figures crowded around her. Fear gripped every sense she possessed, as she screamed for them to step back. The Dark Lord's followers would show no mercy. How had she gotten here? Where was Harry? Or Ron? Surely someone would save her. _

_A wand appeared in her hand. She could do this. She could fight back. Bellatrix's face suddenly emerged in front of her, twisted and framed in red. As Bellatrix advanced towards her, intending to kill, Hermione found her arm suddenly and raised her wand, spouting off the first spell she could think of. No sound came out. She had no voice, she couldn't cast any spells. _

_She spotted Harry in a corner, taking his last breaths. "Hermione?" he rasped torturously, reaching towards her from the floor. His hand was dripping with thick blood. "Why weren't you here to save me?" The blood on the floor opened up into an abyss and Harry was swallowed into the darkness. Bellatrix and the Death Eaters towered over her, reaching out with gnarled, distorted hands. She was so small now, how had she gotten so small? There was nothing to grab onto, no one to save her, no way she could defend herself. _

As Hermione was torn from her dream with a muffled cry, she groggily looked around, unable to see anything in the darkness. She was still caught in a half-delusional state, not quite awake yet, and was still gripped with fear from her dream. Warm arms hesitantly wrapped around her shoulders.

Half-convinced that she was safe from Bellatrix, her breathing resumed normally, and whoever's arms they were began to release her.

"Don't." She didn't want him to leave. Ron must have heard her upstairs and come in to calm her down. She settled against him and breathed Ron's name out loud. The arms tensed and she heard an indignant grumble, but she disregarded this and drifted off to sleep again.


	10. Hog's Head Pub

_X. Hog's Head Pub_

The next morning, Hermione awoke to the sound of her door being closed. She figured it was Ron returning to his room. She was very surprised, however, to hear Draco's door open and shut across the hall. Confused, she quickly ran to her door and opened it quietly, peeking down the hall, expecting to see Ron's retreating back going up the stairs.

No one was there. She stared at Draco's door for a minute longer and could have sworn she heard movement behind it in the quiet house. It couldn't have been Draco. It was Ron—of course it was Ron. Shaking off the thought, she returned to her bed and fell back asleep for a few more hours.

Hermione awoke again to a not so friendly knock on her door. As she sat up in bed and stretched, an angry-looking Ron opened her door, not bothering to check if she was decent.

"Would you mind explaining to me what you were doing sitting with Malfoy in the middle of the night?" he asked haughtily. She was momentarily stunned. Why would Ron leave her room early in the morning only to stomp back in and accuse her of things?

"Talking," she answered, throwing a robe on over her nightgown. "What did it look like?"

He scoffed as if she'd offended him terribly. "There's nothing that you and that ferret need to be talking about."

She glowered at him, hating how he always assumed he knew everything when it involved Hermione. "Ron," she started, trying to be sensible, "we're not in school anymore. Things have changed. Just be adult about this."

"Hermione, he's a selfish prat! Have you forgotten all the horrible things he's done to us? The things he's said to you!"

"I don't want to fight. People can change, Ron," she reasoned, hardly believing that she was defending Malfoy. "And selfish? He's risking his life giving you and Harry information about his family."

"There's only one reason he would be talking to you," Ron said, changing his argument.

"And what would that be?"

He gave her a suggestive once-over.

Her eyes betrayed her and filled with tears. "You think that the only reason someone would want to talk to me is for _sex_?"

Ron crossed his arms. "You can't trust him, Hermione." He paused. "Aw, look, I'm not trying to upset you." His voice softened and he held his arms to her as he tried to walk closer.

"Hermione," Draco's voice interrupted. "Remus is looking for you." He was leaning against the doorframe, giving no indication as to how long he'd been standing there. Hermione furiously swiped at her eyes while Ron glared daggers at him. She took that opportunity to flee the room and down the stairs.

Molly was in the kitchen, preparing eggs for breakfast.

"Where's Remus?" Hermione asked.

"He's not here, dear. He's not due to come back 'til tomorrow," she answered, enchanting a scrub brush to wash dishes while she observed the eggs cooking in the pan.

Draco had lied…_Or provided you with an excuse to leave the room_, she thought.

When she confronted him to thank him later that afternoon as he was scanning _The Daily Prophet_, he claimed to have no idea what she was talking about.

"Yes, you do," she countered. "Earlier…Remus."

"Honestly, Granger, I have not the slightest clue as to what you're referring."

She smirked and left him alone.

* * *

When Hermione walked into the study that night, she was surprised to find Draco fully dressed with his coat and emerald green scarf.

"Where are you going?" she asked him, clutching her robe tighter.

He smirked. "I'm tired of Grimmauld's cheap liquor. We're going out for drinks," he decided.

"I see…"

Twenty minutes later, they entered Hog's Head Pub, Hermione eager to be out of the freezing cold. Draco looked at her and frowned, absentmindedly brushing snow off of her shoulders, and then removing his hand just as quickly, as if realizing what he was doing. She had felt the warmth of his hand instantly, even through her coat.

They sat down and ordered their drinks.

"Feeling any better?" he asked her as their drinks were briskly delivered on a dirty looking tray. She squinted at him in the dim light.

"Come again?"

"You seemed upset last night. And the Weasel seemed to be relentless all morning."

"Oh. Everything's fine."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure it is. I can see it in your eyes, Hermione." She was startled at his use of her first name. "Your relationship with Ron, it's…"

"Just don't, alright?" she held up her hand and stared at her untouched drink. Draco didn't seem to be having much of his, either. "He's just upset because of their lack of progress. He's not content to wait until Willowgrove."

"Well, he's going to have to be if he wants all this to be over with efficiently," Draco sneered, his eyes darkening. "That was always his problem: jumping into things headfirst without any planning whatsoever."

"I've been with him for so long," she started. "I'm scared I wouldn't find anyone else."

"Didn't you technically break up with him? The world doesn't end because you get a new boyfriend, Granger," he commented, looking rather turned off to the topic at hand.

"But I don't even have the opportunity to meet someone else! I'm reclusive and obsessive, two traits that don't exactly send men running in one's direction. I can't imagine finding anyone else," she said.

Draco looked up with an intense look in his eye and paused, contemplating his next words. "Hermione—"

Whatever else he was about to say was cut off abruptly as a spell was hurled in between them, their table flying backwards and their untouched drinks shattering on the pub floor. Hermione jumped back in shock, but Draco didn't even hesitate, grabbing her and shoving her to the floor. He swiftly reached into her robe and pulled out her wand, brandishing it instantly at their attacker.

"You disappear for years, _son_, and then I find you making nice with the Mudblood," a cold voice accused from the dark corner of the pub.

Draco reached up and wiped a trail of blood from the corner of his lip, a result of the breaking glass, but never took his eyes off of his father.

Hermione twisted in his grasp, desperate to watch the scene unfolding in front of her. Lucius' face was gaunt and haunted, nothing like the regal smugness she had grown to expect from him.

"Well, we all get desperate once in a while," Draco said slowly. Hermione figured he was trying to lessen his father's suspicion. "Even you've picked up random bar trash before." Ouch.

Lucius smirked without amusement. "Yes…I suppose. It seems you've finally managed to do something right. Now hand her over, boy."

"Excuse me!" Hermione cut in indignantly. "I am not just some object that can be 'handed over'!"

"You keep your mouth shut, Mudblood! Draco," he said impatiently.

"This isn't the time," Draco informed him. "You'll get caught."

Lucius' upper lip curled in disgust. "I have asked you to do something, and you _will_ respect me." When Draco didn't move, he continued. "Well, I was hoping to refrain from killing you instantly, but it seems I haven't a choice. Perhaps I could remind you about obedience the way the Dark Lord did." His sneer twisted into a nasty grin.

Hermione felt Draco tense above her. Luckily, it appeared that Draco was accustomed to his father's fighting habits, as the second Lucius' wand arm tensed, Draco kicked a nearby chair roughly at his father and simultaneously shoved Hermione to the opposite wall of the pub.

"Insolent—" was all Hermione heard before curses—and countercurses—were being launched back and forth. Stray glasses and wood pieces from the tables and chairs were being thrown about in all the chaos. She tried to shield herself behind a table, but it did little good. The few occupants in the pub were scattering like bugs, heading frantically for the door and trying to stay out of the line of fire.

"I would have thought you'd called your _friends_ by now," Draco sneered, expertly dodging Lucius' attacks with Hermione's wand.

"Backup? To take a disobedient son and a weak Mudblood? I think not."

Draco looked off to his left every so often to locate Hermione before engaging in battle once more.

Hermione continued to crouch behind everything she could, wishing that Draco hadn't taken her wand so she could participate as well. Two against one were better odds for them. Draco dropped roughly to the ground beside her, having temporarily stunned his father.

"You're alright?"

She nodded quickly, once. His eyes lit up as he looked over her shoulder and shouted "No!" Pushing Hermione back once more from Lucius, who had tried to sneak up behind her.

Hermione sat up quickly and saw that Lucius had lifted Draco up by the collar of his robe, looking livid. Scrambling to Draco's feet, she picked up her discarded wand in an instant and screamed a stunning spell at Lucius, knocking him back into shelves of mugs.

Draco gripped her arm and pulled her out the door, the sudden shock of winter cold making her gasp. They Apparated to Grimmauld before Lucius could recover himself, and the second they landed in the front room, an eruption of noise greeted them.

"There they are!" she heard Ron scream anxiously.

Ignoring this, Draco turned to Hermione. "Are you hurt?"

Before she could answer, Remus ripped Draco away from Hermione, restraining him.

"I'll kill you, Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed, barging into the entrance room.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ginny asked nervously. George, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley followed close behind, everyone shouting at once.

"Look at you, you're covered in filth! And those cuts!"

"The clock in the Burrow said 'Mortal Peril'," Ron explained quickly. And when we all came over here to find Malfoy gone too…" He stopped and shot Malfoy a look of death.

"What happened?" Remus bellowed.

"My father…at the Hog's Head," Draco managed to get out.

"YOU tried to KILL my fiancée!" Ron yelled angrily.

"Everyone calm down!" Hermione cried, trying not to flinch at his blatant assumption of 'fiancée'. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

"Hermione?" Harry asked, confusion written on his face.

"He didn't try to kill me! You're all completely overreacting. Can you just let him go so he can be healed?" she exclaimed, thoroughly exasperated.

Molly shushed everyone and ushered them into the dining room, pointing her wand at the chandelier above to shed some light. Draco was shoved roughly into a chair, the farthest away from Hermione.

"We were having some drinks at the Hog's Head—" That's as far as Hermione got before Ron protested loudly.

"_Drinks_? With _him?_"

"Oh, shut it Weasley! Let her finish!" Draco proclaimed, earning some more warning looks.

"Yes, Ron. We were talking."

"Lucius showed up out of nowhere," Draco quipped, wiping away another trickle of blood from his bruised face. "Tried to take us both. We had to stun him."

"We?" George echoed. "_You _don't have a wand, mate."

"I…lent him mine," Hermione said.

"Hermione!" Molly chastised.

"You know he's not to have a wand," Harry finished.

"Well, he fended Lucius off, didn't he?" Hermione countered.

Ron scoffed. "More like put on an act. Are you daft? It was all just a setup to gain your trust!" he declared, sounding so sure of himself.

"Why gain my trust when he could have killed me right then and there?" she asked, determined to prove them wrong. It had never occurred to her in the Hog's Head that Draco could have been in on the whole thing.

"Because he's using you to get to Harry!"

"It does seem rather suspicious, dear," Molly claimed.

"You all are insufferable! He saved us both and you're just pointing fingers. I think he should get his wand back. If I hadn't had mine on me, then we'd both be dead," she commented, crossing her arms.

"No _way_," Ron said.

"Not everything's up to you, Ronald. I'm telling you all, Lucius tried to kill us. It wasn't an act. He would not have hesitated to go through with it, but Draco stunned him."

"_You_ stunned him," Draco cut in. "We were able to Apparate away."

"Well aren't you chivalrous, placing some of the credit with her."

"Everybody just quiet down!" Remus said finally. He had been sitting down, chin leaning on his hand, observing everything that was being said. He looked from Hermione to Draco. "Malfoy gets his wand back. Hermione will refrain from visiting Hog's Head pub or any other for a while, and we will all just lay low until this all boils  
over. Draco, is there any chance that your father can track where you went?"

He shook his head. "No. And our cover isn't blown. He doesn't think I'm playing the part of a mole. He didn't see us Apparate together. Lucius will stick to his plan since he doesn't see me as a threat," he finished, wiping at his face some more.

Ron had crossed his arms indignantly at the mention of Draco getting his wand back. "He's just going to use it against us. You just wait, we'll all be murdered in our beds tonight."

"Hush up, Ronniekins," George finally said. He stretched his arms over his head. "If no one's hurt, then…I think I've had enough drama for one night."

* * *

Draco hurled an expensive looking vase violently in a corner of his room, raking a hand through his disheveled hair. Sighing, he pointed his wand lazily at it and muttered a spell to repair it. _What were you thinking, bringing her to the Hog's Head?_ Carelessness, that's what it was. It had to have been the daftest idea he'd had since he came here. He knew his father occupied it enough. There was no excuse for putting Granger in direct peril, and he didn't blame Weasley for wanting to wring his neck. No doubt he would have wrung Weasley's neck if he had pulled a stunt like that. _How could I be so stupid?_ They were just lucky he had grabbed her wand so quickly.

He hadn't been lying when he told them that his father knew nothing about his traitorous endeavors. If he had really suspected Draco of helping Wonderboy and Weasel, he would have definitely brought his Death Eater companions. They were still in the clear…for now. After reaching the safety of Grimmauld, Draco had nearly launched himself at Weasley for presenting the idea that he had set the whole thing up in front of Hermione. He didn't think he could bear it if she thought he had betrayed her. Granger put up with enough shit from everybody else; she didn't need any from him.

That night, Draco could hear Hermione thrashing and turning restlessly in the silent house. He resisted the urge to go to her again. It was better that he didn't risk it. It had been a stupid move the last time he had moved across the hall to her room, looking for a way to calm her. He wasn't going to get caught in a sticky situation if Ron decided to wander downstairs.

Draco didn't come out of his room all the next day. He took to pacing back and forth, counting the cracks in the ceiling, memorizing every detail in his room.

When he heard a knock on his door, he turned his attention to the clock, surprised to find that it was late evening.

"Enter."

It was Hermione, looking rather sheepish as she moved into the room.

"You haven't been out of your room all day," she commented.

"Yes, well, I thought it might be for the best."

"Dinner's ready downstairs. You must be hungry."

He turned away from her, shrugging his shoulders. He had no business continuing to talk to her. She was a mere step away from being a married woman. That particular tidbit might not have mattered to him in the old days, but things were different now. All it would take would be for Weasel to spout off some sweet words for Hermione to fall head over heels for him again, and voila, she would marry him in an instant. The irony of it was that Weasel probably didn't even know how close he was to obtaining the exclusive Hermione Granger, forbidden object of affection for an abundance of Hogwarts boys (not that she had ever noticed it).

"Draco."

Her quiet voice pulled him out of his pity party. Turning back to her, watching her face, he couldn't say no to her. He realized with a sinking feeling that he would probably never be able to say no to her. Draco nodded and followed her down the stairs to the dining room.

* * *

Dinner was a rather gloomy affair. Despite the lighthearted conversation being carried on between George, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione, Draco was still receiving childish cold looks from Weasley, which he chose to ignore. _You don't know how good you could have it_, he thought silently.

"Lighten up, Ron," Harry said, taking a bite of potatoes. Teddy gurgled from his high chair, further emphasizing this.

"How can I? Hermione was almost killed yesterday," he said, causing everyone to look up at him. So much for decent dinner conversation.

"But she wasn't," Harry reasoned.

"Everything's been taken care of," Hermione pitched in.

"There wouldn't have been anything _to_ take care of if you hadn't been out with _him_." Ron apparently couldn't bring himself to mention Draco's name.

"It's not like we're married or anything," Hermione said quietly to her plate. Ron paled. Draco figured that it was probably good that Molly and Remus had stepped out of the room for a moment.

"You're right. We're not," Weasley finally said. "Thought it's probably to your disadvantage that you don't have me to look after you. After all, you don't seem to handle yourself very well in perilous situations. Like when Bellatrix had rendered you completely helpless with her _Cruciatus_ curse. Or had you forgotten?"

Draco felt his jaw tighten. Hermione looked like she had been slapped in the face. That was it. Any hint of self-confidence she might have mustered up to stand up to Ron dissipated. Draco hated that look she got in her eyes, like she wasn't ever going to amount to anything. It was all due to that good-for-nothing bastard. He didn't like being told off by her, so he pulled out the one card that he continued to play to get her back in her place. He had to bring it up in front of everybody else, too. What good was humiliating her if others weren't there to see it?

Weasel deserved to die a thousand deaths for constantly tearing Hermione down. It was his fault she thought so little of herself. Draco gripped his napkin and his vision turned red. He was going to kill him.

No one else at the table said a word, just looked at Hermione to gauge her reaction. Hermione dabbed her mouth with a napkin and excused herself. Draco could hear her quietly ascend the stairs and shut her door with eerie calmness. Ron got up from the table as well, retreating to the drawing room. Everyone else muttered and rose to congregate in the kitchen, giving the two some time to themselves.

Draco, unable to contain himself, got up from his chair and strode purposefully into the drawing room.

"Sod off, Malfoy—" was about as far as Ron got before getting punched painfully in the jaw and sent stumbling back to the wall, where Draco pinned him.

"You _pathetic_ excuse for a man," Draco spat. "You're the only bloody person she looks to in this house, and you use that to your every advantage to 'keep her in her place.' She deserves better than that, and she deserves better than _you_. Keep your defamations to yourself, Weasley. Understood?"

Weasley, whose face had turned an interesting shade of red, nodded almost imperceptibly. In an effort to save face as Malfoy released him roughly, Weasley puffed out his shoulders and shoved past him out of the room.

Once he was gone, Draco let out a breath and leaned both hands against the mantel. An obscene grinning snowman stared down at him from the mantel. He scowled and turned away. Fuck, he hated the holidays.


	11. Bleeding Heart

_XI. Bleeding Heart_

"So there she is, staring the Dark Lord's right hand man in the face, and then she says—quite resentfully—'I'm not some object that can be handed over!'" Draco broke off chuckling as Ginny and George doubled over. Hermione walked into the room just as Draco was retelling the story of their close encounter. George laughed even harder as he saw Hermione's entrance.

"I'll bet she had on her '_How rude_' face, too!" George commented.

"Leave it to Hermione to get offended by something like that."

Hermione smiled and flushed slightly, surprised that they were all getting along.

"You get offended too easily," Ginny commented, still laughing. Hermione looked up, seeing a flash of movement rush by the room—Ron.

"Ickle Ronnie's still got his knickers in a twist," George stated, putting his feet up on the table. Remus, Teddy, and Harry entered the room at that moment.

"Draco," Remus greeted. "Just the man we needed to see."

Hermione watched him raise an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh?"

"We'll be planning our method of attack after Christmas, yes?" he asked, patiently pushing Teddy's hand away as he tried to seize some of his hair in his tiny fist.

"I suppose so, yes."

Hermione left then, leaving them to talk. She had heard enough talk of the war.

It was two in the morning, and Hermione had already poured herself a drink in the usual abandoned room when Draco appeared in the doorway.

"I was wondering where the Firewhiskey had gone off too," he said coolly.

She just shrugged and hiccupped, a result from her crying earlier. The last thing she wanted was for Draco to find out. She was embarrassed enough as it was. He sat down on the other side of the room, not bothering to say anything else. They sat in silence for a few minutes. What must he think of her? Something pathetic, probably.

"Where did you get your scar?" Hermione asked suddenly. She had wanted to ask earlier, but knew he probably would have pulled away. She wasn't so sure he would even tell her now, but she had to ask. Feeling a sudden tension in the air, she almost—almost regretted asking.

"What are your nightmares about?" he countered.

"War…and Bellatrix," she added. "Everything the rise of Voldemort brought. Darkness…Death Eaters." She stopped abruptly. "Your turn."

Draco was silent for a long time. So long, in fact, she wasn't sure he was going to answer.

"Voldemort. After I failed to complete his assignment to kill Dumbledore."

Hermione had the strange urge to—to what? Comfort him? He obviously wouldn't be very open to that. Draco just tolerated her presence, and he didn't want any sympathy from her.

"That had to have been the first time I started to question him. It was the beginning of my separation from my father and all he represented."

Hermione knew that he hadn't told anyone else about this, and she felt slightly touched. She scooted closer, expecting him to continue.

"Your bleeding heart reveals itself, yet again," he said bitterly.

She stiffened. "Well, excuse me for caring."

"I'm not asking for your sympathy, Granger." Whatever had opened between them quickly closed as she felt the coldness spoken in her surname.

"I never asked for yours," she shot back.

"Once again, I haven't the slightest inkling as to what you're talking about," he replied lazily.

"Your company is bearable one second, and then the next you're just…" she broke off, spluttering, unable to find her train of thought.

"How articulate."

She turned, startled to find him mere inches away from her.

"If I'm just 'bearable', I can leave if you prefer," he said, keeping his thoughts well hidden.

Hermione found herself fixated suddenly on his jaw line, and the shape of his lips, the way his hair fell on the side of his face. She saw a spark of something in his eye as he noticed her watching him so intently.

"I'm glad you came," she said quietly. "Before you barged in…that night…Ron was getting ready to ask me to marry him—again. He was doing it in front of everyone, because he thought I might say yes if others were present. You interrupted him."

"I've always been known to have impeccable timing," he answered.

Hermione wasn't sure who kissed whom, but the space between them disappeared, and all she focused on was the sensation of his lips moving carefully across hers. Draco's hand snaked eagerly up the back of her neck and into her hair. Responding with equal enthusiasm, she wrapped her arm around him. It was a good thing she was already sitting, because Hermione felt his kiss all the way down to her knees. She had never received quite a snog like this from Ron, who was sloppy and impatient, unlike Draco, who was considerate and well paced—so unlike his behavior sometimes.

_Ron_.

The thought of his name jarred Hermione back to Earth and sent a twinge of guilt ramming through her chest, abruptly replacing the light, fluttery feeling she'd had just a second ago. He was sleeping soundly at the Burrow, unaware of their actions at Grimmauld. Draco sensed her sudden hesitation, and pulled away quickly, turning the other direction. His silver eyes were filled with—with what? Regret? Lust? Disappointment? Desire? Hermione couldn't tell.

"I think," he finally said, his voice ragged, "that you should go now."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she stood up nonetheless. "I suppose it's nice to know now rather than later that things don't ever change," she said coldly, smoothing her hair down to hide her embarrassment. "The infamous Draco Malfoy would never lower himself to actually _feel_ something for a Muggle-born." She knew she was being petty, but she didn't care.

He was up in a flash and had caught a hold of her arm before she even had a chance to blink.

"Don't you _ever_ compare me to the boy I was before," he hissed, his eyes burning. "You have no idea what's going on in my head, and don't presume to know otherwise."

She met his challenging glare, refusing to recoil beneath his stare. When neither of them moved for what seemed like an eternity, she softened her gaze.

"I don't want to be alone," she told him.

It was a spontaneous decision, but he seemed to have no problem complying. Her bed was filled with a foreign presence that for once she welcomed. She had never been with anyone besides Ron—and Merlin, had she been missing out. Draco's "reputation" had been no big secret at Hogwarts, and it seemed that he had not forgotten how to please, despite his years of solitude. He stirred emotions in her that she hadn't thought capable of unearthing.

Hermione could tell that he was eager—she'd seen the animalistic flash in his eye when she pulled off her shirt and faced him boldly—but he was patient and went slowly, if only for her sake. She relished the feel of his hands and lips, her body responding to him automatically, arching to bring herself closer to him.

She pressed her lips against his impatiently. He seemed to want to savor every moment possible, but she was getting more desperate with every brush of his hands. Slipping down her skirt, she heard his breathing quicken by her ear. Hermione methodically undid the remaining buttons on his shirtfront, sliding her hands up his back. She stopped when her fingers reached the edge of the slightly raised skin of his scar. Her fingers moved gently over it—she wanted nothing more than to take his hurt away and make him forget the past. He finally responded to her urgency as she pushed his trousers away, and began kissing her more demanding and forcefully.

_Hermione gripped his shoulders as he moved over her, going into complete sensory overload. The tension that had been building between them for quite some time was finally unleashed, sending shockwaves through every touch._

_She found that he could be just as infuriating in bed as well. He liked to tease, pull back just enough to see how long it would take for her to grunt impatiently and muster all of her strength to pull him back._

_It seemed as if the whole world had stopped turning outside of her four walls. Tangled in the sheets, she wanted nothing more than to stay with this man, the one who made all of her nightmares fade._

Hermione had sunk deep into the bed, the sheets and pillows forming a plush, protective cocoon about her. She hadn't had one bone-chilling nightmare, only delectable thoughts of the pale sculptured Draco and the way the muscles in his arms went taut as he held her. By the time she woke up the next morning, the sun blaring in through the window, Draco was gone.


	12. Utter Disgust

_XII. Utter Disgust_

Hermione wasn't sure if she should feel offended at Draco's disappearance, or relieved that he had thought ahead—it would have been catastrophic if Ron or someone had entered her room in the morning while Draco was still occupying her bed.

The memory of last night was coming back in bits and pieces—it almost seemed like a blur, and if wasn't for the fact that she _knew _she wasn't able to dream up something like that, she'd say it never happened. She was carefully combing her hair in the bathroom, distracted by thoughts of the previous night, when an excited pounding on her door startled her.

"Hermione! What are you still doing in your room? Everyone's downstairs! It's Christmas," Ginny cried, her voice muffled through the door.

_Merlin_. Hermione had completely forgotten. That was why everyone had been at the Burrow last night—Mrs. Weasley's Christmas Eve party. She continued getting ready considerably quicker, changing into a set of crimson robes tapered at the waist before heading downstairs.

"Hermione!" Harry greeted warmly. "I was wondering if we'd ever see you."

"You look stunning," Bill complimented.

There was a small amount of chaos, as Remus was trying to catch Teddy, who seemed intent on running throughout the bottom floor laughing and screaming. Molly was flustered and trying to get food out on the table, and Ginny was yelling at her brothers to stay out of the way while they tried to keep track of presents.

Hermione stepped forward and scooped Teddy up as he attempted to dart around her legs. Remus, somewhat out of breath, thanked her and took the wriggling Teddy from her.

"Happy Christmas," he smiled at her.

"Same to you. You look very dashing in your Christmas garb. Has Teddy opened any gifts yet?" she asked.

"Not yet. Although I suspect he wouldn't want run away so much if he knew about all the toys he was getting," he smirked.

"Toys!" Teddy exclaimed.

"Everyone in the front room!" Molly called. "It's time to open gifts!"

There was a stampede as Harry, Ron, George, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Hermione, Remus, Teddy, and Molly all fit themselves through various doorways, eager to get to the presents. Hermione scanned the room and finally spotted Draco, sitting in a chair in the corner, looking brilliant in formal black robes, scowling slightly at everyone's over-enthusiasm. She hadn't expected an ecstatic greeting from him or anything, but she had expected a little more acknowledgement than the indifferent nod he gave her when he finally found her staring at him.

"I'm stuffed," Ron complained for the second time, leaning back in his chair and tugging at his formal Christmas wear.

"It was the ham," George quipped, looking equally lethargic. The only person that didn't actually look full to bursting was Fleur. She had taken a small portion of cranberries and a roll, but that was it. Fleur had spent the entire dinner pulling apart her roll, taking delicate bites and dabbing her face with a cloth napkin occasionally. Ginny and Hermione had rolled their eyes and giggled at her finicky behavior, but didn't dare speak ill of her in front of Bill, who was holding her hand and making googly eyes at her.

"Hermione," Ginny whispered to her at one point during dinner. With all of the loud conversation going on around them, she was in no danger of being overheard. "Did you and Ron make up or something? You look happier than I've seen you in months."

Hermione flushed. "No, no we didn't. It's Christmas! I'm just happy," she responded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. She snuck a sideways glance at Draco, but if he heard them, he took no notice of it.

The gift exchange had been quite enjoyable. Hermione had received some new robes, a set of book ends carved in the shape of a cat, a hand-knitted scarf (apparently Mrs. Weasley figured they all had enough jumpers), several first edition texts that she had been eager to get her hands on, and of course some Zonko's products (courtesy of George). Hermione had managed to squeeze in a little Christmas shopping at Diagon Alley while everyone else had been away at the Burrow. Everyone seemed pleased enough with her gifts, and she was just happy that she could contribute.

While everyone lounged by the fireplace talking and enjoying each other's company, Hermione ventured to the kitchen to get another plate of sugar cookies, as they were quickly diminishing. She was happy to see Draco actively participating in the conversation; everyone seemed to have warmed up to him significantly.

"Ahem."

She turned around, expecting to see Draco there, but instead it was Ron, trying to awkwardly flatten his hair as he gazed at her.

"Hello, Ron," she said, putting the plate back down on the counter.

"Happy Christmas," he responded.

"And to you."

"You look—you look really nice today," he told her as they both settled at the small table. Hermione smiled at his compliment.

"How are you getting on?" she asked him, very aware that their small talk was somewhat forced.

"I miss you," he said immediately, taking the chance to jump right in. She didn't have a response, which was just as well because he continued on. "I know we haven't been getting along all that great, and I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for embarrassing you in front of everyone."

Hermione couldn't really tell if he was being sincere or if he was just telling her what she wanted to hear, but when he lightly placed his hand over hers, she couldn't help but smile in return.

_I knew it_, Draco thought to himself bitterly as he hung back in the shadows. He had followed Hermione to the kitchen, hoping to catch her alone, but when he arrived he was disappointed to see that Weasel had beaten him to it. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he stayed long enough to see him take her hand. Hermione smiled in response.

Utterly disgusted at himself, he turned abruptly and left the two alone, not wanting to witness their make-up kiss. How had he let the situation get so out of control? By the look of things, Hermione had written him off as a quick shag to curb her sorrow, and now she was headed right back to Weasel. He should have known better, really. It's not as if he didn't have this one coming—how many girls had he led on in his earlier years, only to disappear at the drop of a hat? Many more than he'd like to admit.

That morning, after Hermione had fallen asleep, looking perfectly content wrapped in the sheets, Draco had been unable to fall asleep. Instead he sat awake, contemplating the weight of his actions and in slight disbelief that the previous night had actually happened. He let his imagination and _what-ifs_ run away with him, but they were all put to an abrupt halt when he thought of Ron again. There was no getting around him. He couldn't expect to compete with someone that she had looked on favorably for half her life.

Well, whatever. _I don't care_, Draco decided, raking a hand through his now disheveled hair. _She's just a Muggle-born_. An easy way to pass the time. Soon it would be safe to leave, but until then, he ventured upstairs to find the deepest, darkest corners in Grimmauld to sit and stew.

"Things are going to be so much better when Malfoy takes a hike," Ron continued, his confidence heightened from Hermione's smile.

Hermione frowned suddenly. "Pardon?"

"It seems that there's been more tension between us ever since he came along. I, personally, wouldn't have even given the git back his wand. I'll be happy to throw his arse out of here once we squeeze all the information we can out of him," he replied smartly.

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Have you no tact whatsoever?" she demanded, removing her hand from underneath his. His face barely registered shock. "There was tension long before he came along. Draco's _helping_ you bring his own family to justice. He's risking his neck a thousand fold by feeding you information, and you have the gall to say you're going to throw him out the second you're done _using_ him? You're stooping just as low as a Muggle-hating pureblood family!"

She scrambled out of her chair, attempting to control the livid monster creeping up her chest. It seemed as though she could no longer speak to Ron without arguing about something.

Ron opened his mouth once, then closed it again before responding, "Since when did you come to be on a first-name basis with Malfoy?"

"That's _all_ you have to say?" she cried. Frustrated beyond belief, she turned on her heel, abandoning the plate of cookies and flew up the stairs so noisily she was eternally thankful that Mrs. Black's portrait had been successfully cut out of the wall or else she'd be shrieking like a banshee right about now.

"And lastly, I'd like to propose a toast, for the friends that have fallen in battle, fighting for a better future," Harry finished.

Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, raising a glass of butterbeer. Hermione had emerged after composing herself, telling herself that she wouldn't let that prat ruin her Christmas.

"To Arthur. And to Tonks," Hermione added. Mrs. Weasley's eyes glistened with tears. She pressed a hand against her mouth, unable to take a drink as everyone else did. Forgetting the family conflicts, Hermione pulled her into a hug, which Ginny, and then all the other Weasleys followed suit.

Shortly after, Hermione found Remus by himself in the drawing room. She had spotted Teddy playing with Ginny and wandered off to find Remus. He had his head slumped over in his hands, sitting silently on a sofa in the corner.

"Remus."

His head snapped up with surprise at seeing Hermione there.

"You mustn't worry about me, Hermione," he said, forcing a small smile. "You should go back out to the Christmas party."

"I think Teddy's doing a fine job of entertaining the company." There was a long pause. "Don't think that you have to hide everything. Just because you're older than most of us doesn't mean that you aren't allowed your feelings."

"Things can just get—unbearable without her," he said finally. He shifted in his seat and turned towards the wall, which Hermione took as a dismissal. She rose from her chair and left the room, only to run into George.

"Hullo, George," she said sullenly.

"I wouldn't take it personally," he said in response. "Remus has always been one to involve himself in other people's problems, but never to acknowledge his own. He's trying to stay strong for Teddy."

Hermione nodded. "I can understand that, but—"

"He just needs time. We all do."

Hermione contemplated his words as she went back to the party to help Mrs. Weasley and Ginny clean up everything. Bill and Fleur left, and Remus reappeared shortly after to collect Teddy and call it a day. They left the Christmas decorations up, grasping onto any excuse to make Grimmauld look cheerier. While they were wrapping up the last of the leftover food, Hermione wandered upstairs to Draco's room. She had yet to wish him a happy Christmas, and she was desperate to see Draco's reaction to the "afterwards." Before she knocked on his door, she found that she was nervous. Would he act like nothing happened? Surely not. One can't just go back to the way things were after something like that.

He pulled open his door. If he was surprised to her standing there, he didn't show it. _Was he expecting me?_ "Granger," was all he said.

She was a bit put off by his indifferent tone of voice. Despite this, a small flame lit in her chest at the sight of him. "Er—Happy Christmas, Draco."

"And to you."

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" she asked hesitantly, searching his face for any signs of emotion towards her.

"When have I ever enjoyed any of the 'Grimmauld Gatherings'?"

"Well, I thought—"

"How's Ron doing?"

Hermione flinched at the harshness he bestowed upon Ron's name. "He's…fine, I suppose. What's wrong?"

"As you said, it's Christmas. What would I have to be upset about?" he said, straightening his collar. "You never finished answering my question."

Her eyes narrowed. "He said something rather nasty to me."

Draco scoffed lightly. "Not that that held you back or anything," he mumbled.

"What?"

"He's just bitter that he hasn't gotten laid in weeks," he retorted.

"What is it with you?" Hermione demanded. "Why are you trying to start a fight with me?"

"I was merely trying to be friendly and ask you about your status with Ron," he said with forced innocence. "Apparently the fact that he says nasty things to you doesn't stop you from continuing your dysfunctional relationship with him."

"I just care about him—"

"And he bloody well knows it! Haven't you figured out yet that Weasel uses that to his advantage every single day?"

"Can we just _stop_ with the childish name calling? We're not in school anymore." She took a breath and tried to compose herself. "Draco." He tensed at her use of his first name. "What is wrong? You can tell me."

His eyes grew steely and dangerous. "I can, hm? Good to know that I have a Muggle-born to confide all of my problems in."

Hermione refused to be baited. "Something happened. I know it did. What was it?"

Draco sighed, irritated. "Contrary to what you might think, _you don't know everything_. Quit trying to fix my problems, you can't even handle your own!"

She thought immediately of Remus. "I—I wasn't trying to fix your problems," she said quietly, her confidence faltering at his hurtful words. An unreadable emotion shone in Draco's gaze at her insecurity, and she took the chance to bring up what he wouldn't. "What about last night?" She spoke so softly, she wasn't sure he would even hear her.

"Last night was a mistake." When Hermione didn't answer, he continued. "I was drunk."

There was a heavy pause, and Hermione realized she was holding her breath. He refused to meet her eyes, but his voice was cold enough to make her believe it. "You were not drunk, Draco Malfoy," she finally said, not sure who she was trying to convince. His back was to her, so she couldn't gauge his reaction.

"I figured it might have been easier on you if I'd said I was drunk rather than 'It meant nothing,' but since you seem to be drawn to self-pity, you can take the latter," he responded.

"You…" Hermione started dangerously, her ears suddenly ringing, "arrogant, loathsome, pathetic being! Are you so sadistic that you have to gain everyone's trust around you and yank it out from under them at the last minute just to make yourself feel more in control? You're more like your father than you know! You know why I think you abandoned your family? You didn't have a 'realization' that their lifestyle was wrong! Bollocks. You just didn't want the life of a fugitive! Your parents were on the run and had to forgo the luxuries of a mansion, so you ran away because you're selfish. You're selfish, Draco Malfoy, and I'm sorry to have known you."

With that, she turned on her heel and left.


	13. Willowgrove

_XIII. Willowgrove_

Draco stood in one spot for several moments after she left, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. _Well, what did you expect? You wanted to push her away to save face, and you bloody well did it._ Things would be so much easier if they were out of each other's lives. She had already shown that her loyalties lay with Weasley. It had taken so much self-restraint not to admit he was lying when her face revealed her hurt at his words. He had so wanted to tell her that every bloody word he had said was a lie.

The Malfoys were prideful. He would never have admitted he cared.

It took him a moment to notice that Ron had appeared in the doorway. _Speak of the devil_. He was the last person he wanted to see right now.

Draco couldn't even bring himself to shoot a degrading remark at him. Instead he graced him with a sneer that made Ron's face crumple into an even more sheepish look than he'd had before. _Pathetic,_ Draco thought.

"Look," Ron said, clearly uncomfortable as he ran a hand through his tangled red mop of hair, "I just came to…_aploshurgh_." He mumbled the last bit as quietly as he could.

"What was that?" Draco prodded. "Spit it out, Weasel."

"Apologize, alright? Apologize!" When Draco didn't say anything, he continued, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "For some odd reason, Hermione got upset when I _discredited_ you. Said summat about not being appreciative of your efforts, or some other nonsense."

Malfoy tried to take pleasure in the fact that Hermione had told off Ron, but at that moment, he couldn't seem to find any, so he continued to give Weasley a blank stare.

"Anyway, if it makes her happy, I'll apologize. So I am. Not that you'd have had any idea that I said it otherwise, but sorry." He was rambling now. Was there really no end to it?

"Is that all?" He had never seen someone fidget so much in his entire life. Apparently Draco's lack of response angered Ron, because he wasn't finished.

"Look, I come up here to put myself on the line and you can't even manage a thank you?"

"'Fraid not."

Ron's face started to flush with anger. "We're engaged, you know," he said, successfully making Draco snap his head almost imperceptibly towards him. Seeing that he had finally stirred some sort of reaction out of him, he continued. "She agreed to get married."

Draco stared at him a moment longer. "Don't take me for a _fool, _Weasley," he spat. "Think of the wrath you'd stir up in Granger if she heard you telling such lies."

Flushing even more at being caught in a lie, he sputtered, "Well, just—just stay away from her! Things were going fine before you came along!"

"I thought I told you not to tell lies."

"You shut your mouth, you big oaf!" Ron shouted back, striving for some more control of the situation. Tired of the conversation, Draco ushered him out and shut the door cleanly in his red, freckled face.

_How dare he?_ Hermione smothered her face with a pillow and let out an exasperated, muffled scream. _The nerve of him!_ _I am _not_ drawn to self-pity. Talking down to me like that—who does he think he is?_

A Malfoy. That's who he thinks he is. The only reason Hermione could come up with as to why his comments bothered her so much was that they were untrue. It wasn't because she cared what he thought; he was just speaking lies.

She could barely bring herself to listen to Ron later that evening.

"I know you're angry with me for what I said. I still don't quite understand why…" Ron trailed off, meeting her gaze hopefully. She knew he wanted her to shed some light on the situation, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. When she said nothing, he pressed on. "I just wanted to let you know I apologized to him—not that the git accepted it very readily, but I did try. I'd do anything to make this work," he finished.

She sighed, unable to accept his seemingly sincere peace offering. It was obvious that his apology was only an attempt to placate her. He meant what he'd said about Draco—and no doubt he'd say it again if given the change. He hadn't changed. _Why do you even care if he said untrue, cruel things about Draco? You're not affiliated with him anymore_, she reminded herself.

Bringing a smile to her face that she hoped didn't look too forced, she brought herself closer to him and met his gaze. "We'll talk more about it tomorrow when all of this is over," she promised. "We've both got to get some sleep."

Shortly after he left, she sank into her pillows, intent on resting up, but after much tossing and turning, she found that her bed seemed liked it was missing something.

Hermione purposefully avoided Draco's icy gaze from across the table. Everyone was here, ready. This was it. No one dared deny Hermione access to this final battle. Hermione had had Grimmauld basically all to herself for the last week or so (she wasn't counting Malfoy as they never spoke anyway). Harry and Ginny had visited her a few times, but most of everyone's time was spent at the Burrow, making last minute plans. The attack on Willowgrove had been planned down to the very last detail; there was no way they could lose. Having been provided with a detailed layout of the estate (courtesy of one Draco Malfoy), they had shed the disadvantage of unfamiliar ground.

It seemed that everyone had gradually started to look at Draco in a new light. He had successfully gained the respect of everyone in their party, save Ronald. His comments and strategies were taken into account without suspicion. They would never have gotten this far if it hadn't been for him. It was too bad she couldn't even bear to look at him. He was certainly on her mind all hours of the day, and every instant she thought of him caused her more pain. Was she really so broken a person that even the notorious Draco Malfoy couldn't give her the time of day? She thought of her harsh words. "_You're selfish, Malfoy…I'm sorry to have known you." _Every moment that she thought of apologizing, she remembered how he had used her to curb his loneliness and the horrible things he had said to her as well. She was far too embarrassed to speak to him again. It was clear that he wanted nothing more to do with her. It was probably better that way anyway.

"Got that, Hermione?" Harry asked her, eyes full of concern. She snapped out of her rambling thoughts, wondering what it was he had said before. A quick peek around the table revealed that everyone was staring at her expectantly, skepticism in their eyes. She knew what they were thinking. _"Is Hermione stable enough to go through with this?"_

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"The formation," Harry said softly, pointing to the scroll on the table in front of them. "You'll go in the back entrance with George, Fleur, Remus, and Draco." Hermione tried not to flinch too noticeably. "Ron, Bill, Ginny, and Molly and I will split up and come in through the front entrances."

"Right." Hermione tried to give a reassuring smile, but fell very short of it. They had all run over the plan at least a hundred times. Only Ginny seemed to notice the obvious tension between Hermione and Draco. It was clear she knew that something had happened between the two of them. _Snap out of it! _Hermione chided herself. _Now is not the time to be thinking about this! We are about to end this war, once and for all. _

Later, Hermione was sulking in the study and trying very hard not to look like she was sulking. Ginny joined her at some point, not saying anything at first, apparently understanding that Hermione wasn't in much of a talking mood. She could only contain herself for a little while, though, unfortunately for Hermione.

"It's Malfoy, isn't it?" she asked, causing Hermione to flinch violently.

"What's Malfoy? What are you talking about?" She swallowed, trying not to be so obvious.

"Something happened between you two, didn't it?" Ginny asked softly. "Don't even try to lie about it."

Hermione managed a grim smile. "Yes…" she answered hesitantly, seeing Ginny's eyes flash with eagerness at her gossip. "But you can't tell _anyone_," she hissed quickly.

"Hermione, you have been my closest friend in ages. I would never betray you like that," she said sincerely. After a pause she grinned wickedly. "But you have to tell me everything!"

Laughing, Hermione scolded, "Ginny! How can you be so sure that something _serious_ happened?"

"Oh, Hermione you are rather naïve, aren't you?" Ginny teased. "You two looked like you were holding back truckloads of tension, giving each other long stares of silent desperation—"

"Merlin, Ginny!" Hermione interrupted as Ginny clutched her chest. "Dramatic much?"

"—and then looking glowing and completely content the next day, and now you both are completely _miserable_. Something big happened, all right."

Hermione couldn't help but blush before she got sad again. "Trust me. Malfoy was definitely not happy and 'content' afterwards."

"Ah! You're back to using his last name. And of course he was happy. He only got miserable again once you quit talking to him."

"When _I_ quit talking to him? He was extremely clear in conveying that anything that happened between us meant nothing."

"He's lying," Ginny said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms smugly. "I saw his face when you walked down the stairs on Christmas morning."

Hermione's stomach betrayed her as butterflies began to flit about. "It must have been something else," she responded stubbornly. Deep down, as much as she wanted Ginny's words to be true, she knew that they weren't. Draco Malfoy wanted nothing more to do with her. That had been confirmed when he hadn't tried to talk to her again. "You're so lucky to have Harry," she said after a pause. "It was always obvious that you two would end up together."

Ginny considered her words carefully. "Some might say that it was obvious that you and Ron were meant for each other." Hermione looked down at the floor. Ginny leaned in. "But what would the world be like today if everybody always did what was expected of them? Just because everyone around you says you should be with Ron, doesn't mean you should be. I love Harry more than anything, but there were times where I thought that it truly wasn't going to happen between us. You have to follow your instincts."

Hermione nodded, unwilling to finish the conversation.

Willowgrove was tall and ominous-looking. It had probably once looked exquisite, but time and neglect had led to vines creeping up the fading paint and the handsome-looking beams to sag with age. Granted, Hermione could only see the house from the back, but that was enough to fully take in its splendor. Despite its size, Willowgrove was actually an ingenious location to hide out in. No doubt there was comfortable space for the Death Eaters, and the house was concealed not only by magic, but by a thick spattering of forest as well.

They had been crouched in the brush for a good hour, waiting for Harry's first signal. Harry's group was to split in two, and observe the house for any movement.

"There!" Remus whispered quietly to her. She followed where he was pointing to and saw faint, blue sparks lazily flying off to the side of the house.

"That's our cue," Hermione told everyone, and they begun to leave their cover from behind the house.

As they fell into formation, Hermione, rather than getting more nervous with anxiety at the fight, found herself calming down more as she slipped into a role that she had almost forgotten was there. This was something she was familiar with: fighting the dark side. How many times had she, Harry, and Ron faced Voldemort and planned out elaborate schemes? She had spent hours the night before poring over the layout of the house and brushing up on her dueling spells. Preparation was something she was well versed in. There was no hesitation as she took charge of her group.

As she, Remus, Fleur, George, and Malfoy crept along the back, she kept her eyes peeled in the distance for Harry's final signal. Hermione rolled her eyes as Fleur started to hyperventilate.

"Fleur! Pull it together!" Hermione hissed as quietly as she could. "Harry will be signaling any second now." Once Harry shot off red sparks, that was their cue to go in and start attacking from behind. She couldn't help flicking her gaze to Malfoy, attempting to read his expression. There was definitely something off about his expression, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Then again, she was never able to read his face very well.

He caught her staring at him and turned to her. She challenged his stare. "You know, there's probably something you should know," he said quietly.

Before she could take in what an important matter he was probably about to tell her, George's fingers dug into her arm. "That's it! There! The sparks."

Hermione turned her head with a sinking feeling, and sure enough, red sparks were erupting faintly from the side of the house.


End file.
